


Demons

by MissScorp



Series: Tale of Two Dopes [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Case Fic, Complicated Relationships, Drama, F/M, Gen, Gil whump happens too, Hurt/Comfort, Let the Good Times Roll, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm gets in trouble as always, Might be bombs, Minor Injuries, Murder Mystery, Past catches up with Malcolm, Payback, Psychological Torture, Severed body parts do come into play, There are deaths in this story but they’re not canon characters, There is hinted sexual situations, psychological whump, there will be blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp
Summary: A severed thumb left in a mailbox takes Malcolm on a roller coaster ride through hell and pits him against a killer more dangerous than even John Watkins.For Bad Things Happen Bingo, finger in the mail.
Series: Tale of Two Dopes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928365
Comments: 17
Kudos: 29
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

They left The Vassal strapped to the table, whimpering and blubbering, left hand dangling over the side of the table, dripping blood into the bucket placed there for the purpose of gathering it.

Once they had enough of the beautiful sanguineous liquid, they'd pen a message to accompany the gift they wrapped in shiny crimson paper.

A tiny giggle burst from them as they washed off the filth staining their body with holy water.

Anointed themselves with the sacred oils Master gave them before his incarceration.

Everything was going according to plan.

They had gone to an insanely huge amount of trouble to ensure everything went perfectly.

It had better...

Or else there'd be hell to pay.

The Master already punished them once for failing to kill The Woman as he demanded.

They would not fail him again.

They made sure they were meticulous this time.

They found The Vassal in his office.

They subdued him with the chloroform as Master instructed.

Brought him here to this specially chosen place.

Secured him to the table.

Taken his offering.

A token they planned to deliver while The Woman was not home.

Their lips peeled back into a sly grin as they imagined the look on The Woman's face when she found this offering from Master atop her pillow.

How beautiful fear would make her.

What color in her face draining away to leave it a perfect porcelain mask. Those dark, dark eyes widening with a combination of shock and revulsion. Kewpie-doll shaped lips trembling with a mixture of horror and disgust.

Oh, it'd be delicious.

Truly divine.

The only thing more stimulating had been watching The Woman betray Master by granting The Infidel the use of her lush body.

Rage pooled in their belly as they remembered the way her body undulated atop The Infidel's.

Hands not Master's cupped her breasts, her hips. Lips not his rained kisses along her swan-like throat.

Of course, they told Master what they saw.

Showed him the pictures to prove they did not lie to him.

Oh, he had been furious.

Rightly so.

" _Make them pay_ ," he snarled, fists banging on the table. " _Do you understand me? Make them pay for having betrayed me_."

And so they would.

The Woman simply had to call The Infidel, first.

As she called him before.

Only this time, The Infidel wouldn't be the hero.

He would not save The Woman.

No, The Infidel wouldn't be able to stop them as they finished what the Master started.

He'd already be in the specially crafted box Master ordered commissioned and on his way to the person he wanted to send a message: _The Surgeon_.

Their low, dark chuckle skittered off the cement walls, startling The Vassal who shrieked, and sending the rats off into the darkness where they belonged.

...

His phone jitterbugging its way across his desk broke Malcolm out of the trance-like state he fell into while working on the sea of paperwork Gil stuffed at him soon as he arrived at the precinct that morning.

" _Crossing all the t's and dotting all the i's_ ," Gil said before turning back into his office. " _Making sure everything sticks so Bloom goes away for the rest of his life_."

Malcolm had a feeling this was a bit of revenge for what happened to the LeMan's.

Not that he really had much choice in the matter.

It was either land on Gil's car or become a _Bright-cake_ as JT put it.

His phone buzzed again. Whoever was messaging him was insistent on getting him to reply. A tingle at the back of his neck warned him about who that messenger could be.

Not that he shouldn't expect it.

He managed to avoid his mother's last five requests for dinner because of a case involving a man killing people from foreign countries. Ainsley covering the case on the news every evening helped support his stance that he was too busy for family get-togethers.

The case took more than a week to crack given how the victims only shared one thing in common: being from foreign countries.

Figuring out their killer was suffering from xenophobia only narrowed the suspect pool to recent travelers into the country. It still took them another three days before they connected that the victims all shared the same Uber driver: _Michael Bloom_.

They managed to track him to the location he took his tenth and final victim.

With Bloom now behind bars and the last victim recovering in the hospital, he had no more excuses to offer as to why he couldn't come to dinner.

Or breakfast.

Or lunch.

He either would have to hope for a case to miraculously fall into his lap before the appointed hour or resign himself to putting in his requested appearance.

Otherwise, there'd be hell to pay.

Malcolm silently prayed the message was from Ainsley, Dani or Sorcha.

He'd especially prefer if it was Sorcha messaging him.

He hadn't seen her since the night he dissolved into a mess on Gil's bathroom floor.

After she told him there would be nothing between them now but friendship.

" _I'm tired of being the winner at a losing game_ ," she whispered when he awoke, still on the bathroom floor, head in her lap, and her hand stroking his hair. " _So, I'm done. I quit. I'll be your friend but the friends with benefits thing we've had going on since college is over_."

Malcolm found himself learning a hard lesson that night about love.

It didn't come with a reset button.

Or a rewind function.

No option for starting over.

He couldn't reload from a particular save point and try again.

One bad choice cost him everything he wanted.

Needed.

He decided to leave Sorcha alone after that. She needed time to heal, to think. It wasn't like he had any clue about what to say or do to make up for the hurt he caused, anyway.

His phone went off again.

Malcolm steadied himself for a demand from his mother about putting in an appearance tonight at dinner before reaching over and tapping the screen with one finger.

[ _Need you to come to Rochelle's apartment_ ] the first message read.

[ _Have a case for you, bring team_ ] was the second.

It was followed by: [ _May want to bring Dr. Tanaka, too. She's probably gonna have to collect the evidence_ ]

Malcolm's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

[ _What evidence_?] he sent back to her.

The next few seconds stretched on for an eternity. Malcolm watched the little dots at the bottom of the screen, willing her to hurry up and reply to his question. _Come on, Sorcha_ , he urged, fingers spasming. _Reply. Tell me what evidence you're talking about._

The phone buzzed. He swiped a shaking finger across the screen. The words chilled him to the core of his being.

[ _Someone left a finger in the mailbox_ ]

Malcolm read the message twice to make sure he hadn't misread it.

He hadn't.

[ _Someone left a finger in the mailbox_?] he managed to send back. [ _Real_?]

He prayed it'd end up being a chicken bone carved to look like a human finger.

Luck, like always, was against him.

[ _A thumb, definitely human, quite possibly male based on size and shape_ ]

She accompanied the message with a picture of said thumb sitting atop a stack of envelopes and magazines.

The thumb had been cleanly severed at the metacarpophalangeal joint and carefully preserved before being set atop the items stacked neatly inside the mailbox.

 _That didn't end up there by chance_ , he realized, breath congealing in his lungs. No, someone willfully and purposely put that thumb in her mailbox.

As a message.

 _What's the message, though?_ His belly cramped as his mind spit out several reasons for why someone would send a severed thumb as a message. The most common answers were that someone was signifying a loss of power and control, not having a good grip on their life, feeling a dissatisfaction over something.

It could simply mean she broke the rule of thumb...

Either way, it was clearly a threat.

Someone was telling Sorcha they meant to cause her physical harm for something she had done to them.

_Or that I've done._

That thought rolled through Malcolm's mind as a tremor racked his hand.

He had a long list of people from his days with the bureau who'd love to pay him back for putting them or their family members in prison.

He added to that list when he became a consultant for the NYPD.

Any number of those individuals could threaten Sorcha to get back at him. His hand spasmed so hard he dropped his phone on the desk. He clenched his hand into a fist, willing the tremors to stop, but knowing they wouldn't.

Nothing made them stop.

 _Well, there's one thing that slows them down_ , he corrected as his phone vibrated with another message from the person capable of getting his spasms under control.

He just had no right to ask her for that comfort, though.

Not when someone had singled her out for attack.

"Bright?" He barley heard Dani through the dull roaring between his ears. "You good?"

He was far from good.

He bolted to his feet, surprising her and the couple of officers standing by his cubicle and talking.

"We have a case."

"Uhm?" A frown creased her brow. "What case?"

"Someone left a thumb in the mailbox at the apartment Sorcha has been subletting."

Surprise and confusion raced across Dani's face.

"Wait..." She shook her head. "Are we talking a _human_ thumb?"

"Yes." Malcolm buttoned his jacket before reaching for his phone. "And before you ask, no, it was not by accident."

"Okay..." she said slowly. "Why don't you..."

"Go tell JT and Gil." Malcolm headed for the door, leaving Dani blinking in his wake. "I'll tell Edrisa where to meet us."


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm shared what little information he had with Gil and the others on the way to Sorcha's apartment. JT whistled softly and breathed out a, "Damn," but made no other comment.

Not that any other remark was needed. _Damn_ just about covered the spectrum of thoughts and emotions churning inside him at that moment. He managed to keep his anxiety under control while back at the precinct. His focus had been in organizing the team and getting them to Sorcha's to investigate this severed thumb.

Once he got in the car and could no longer distract himself or expel the nervous energy pumping through him with physical movement, the bands formed.

Around his head, around his chest.

Tightening until he could barely breathe. To keep himself from spiraling further out of control he dug his nails into his palms. Not hard enough to draw blood but enough that the ripples of pain kept him grounded.

"You're sure it's a human thumb?" Gil shifted around in his seat to look at him. "There's no question about it?"

"Sorcha sent me pictures of it." He called the picture up on his phone and passed it up to Gil. "It's definitely a human thumb."

"Lite-Bright would send you pictures of a severed thumb." JT shook his head as he turned left at a light. "Girl's weird as you but you screwed it up. "Still can't believe you went and screwed things up with her." He drove around a delivery van double-parked. "Even after I helped you plan something special for Valentine's."

Malcolm grimaced as he took his phone back from Gil and checked his messages. No reply to the last text he sent Sorcha. He told himself it was because the unit Gil requested had gotten there and had her distracted. He met JT's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Believe me," he said with great feeling. "I'm as much at a loss as you about how I could have made such a mess of things with Sorcha."

JT stopped to let a woman pushing a baby stroller cross the street. "You didn't just make a mess of things, bro. You did your girl dirty."

"Don't be a dick," Dani scolded. "Bright knows he messed things up with Sorcha."

"It's okay," Malcolm sent her a small, grateful smile. "JT's right. I messed up my relationship with Sorcha by not handling things better."

_Now, I have to figure out how to fix it_. Not that he had any idea about how to repair things with Sorcha. Gifts wouldn't buy him out of this predicament. No, this required effort on his part. Showing he meant he was sorry and proving he wouldn't hurt her like this again.

"JT doesn't need to keep rubbing it in."

"Oscar Wilde was right when he talked about the truth rarely being pure and never being simple."

"Some truths should be kept to ones self."

"The truth sets you free because it hurts less than a lie."

Crashing on top of Gil's car hurt less.

Smashing his hand with a hammer didn't even compare to his pain over hurting Sorcha.

Physical pain healed in time.

Emotional?

That never went away.

"Focus." Gil curled a hand around the grab handle and stared out the front window. Malcolm could see his gaze was pensive in the reflection of the glass. "We have a thumb left in a mailbox. Was there a note left with it?"

"Sorcha says no."

Gil's brow furrowed. "Why would someone leave a finger but no note?"

"Why would someone leave a thumb in Bright 2.0's mailbox is the better question."

"I agree." Gil's frown deepened. "Kid, you got any thoughts here?"

"Beyond this person wanting to send a message?" Bright shook his head. "No."

He didn't admit he had some theories in mind. Until he could examine the thumb in person, he wanted to keep them to himself.

"So, we don't have a note to give us a reason for why the thumb was left in the mailbox," Dani mused, lips pursed, and gaze thoughtful. "And it's obvious from the pictures that it was not put there accidentally since the mailbox wasn't tampered with and there's no blood to support that it happened that way."

"Who besides Bright-Light can get into her locked mailbox?"

"Rochelle's the only one with a key but she's on deployment," Malcolm said. "She left her keys with Sorcha."

"Someone could have broken into the apartment and made a copy of it while Sorcha was out," Dani pointed out. "Wouldn't be that difficult to do."

Malcolm's hand vibrated on his knee as that thought worked through his brain.

"Dani's right." He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "This wasn't an accident. That thumb was surgically removed. Someone made sure to preserve it before they purposefully put it in the mailbox. That shows intent and careful planning."

"Why, though?"

His hand rattled against his leg. He closed it into a fist to try and stop it.

Not that it did.

Nothing he did stopped the tremors once they started.

"I don't know." That was the question plaguing him. Was this happening because someone wanted to get back at him? Or was this because someone wanted to get even with Sorcha for something she had done? "I don't know who could be doing this or why."

"They have to have been watching her for a while," Dani murmured. "They knew her routine. Knew when she wouldn't be home. Knew when her mail would be delivered."

That thought tightened the bands around his head, his chest. Luckily, JT turned onto the street that Sorcha's building was located on. Malcolm distracted himself from his spiraling thoughts by staring out the window. The last time he had been here was after Rochelle moved into the apartment with her then boyfriend, Nico.

_That was nine years ago_ , he realized with a pang. The neighborhood had changed drastically in that time. Many of the buildings had been freshly painted or remodeled. New businesses had joined a few of the old ones he recognized. The empty lot had been converted into a small park complete with basketball courts and a picnic area.

All things that happened while he was working for the FBI.

A lifetime ago even though it had been less than six months since his firing.

Malcolm spotted her building and was out the car before JT finished pulling the SUV to a stop.

"Bright!"

He ignored Gil and plunged into the building. He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the looks he received, his focus solely on getting to Sorcha. He burst into the apartment to find Edrisa talking with Sorcha by her kitchen island.

"Mr. Bright!" A pleased smile wreathed Edrisa's face. "I was just telling Miss Corbin about a case I worked a few years ago where the victim had all of their fingers cut off and sent to a loved one as a warning."

Interest piqued, Malcolm went to ask her more about it but stopped when he caught a glimpse of Sorcha's glassy eyes, and pale face.

"Sorch." He moved forward on autopilot, folding her in his arms as she had done him so many times before. "It's okay," he whispered as her hauntingly familiar scent wrapped itself around him. Settled and soothed him as always. "We'll figure out who is doing this and stop them."

"That's why I called you." The hands she placed on his back shook with the force his did on a good day. "You're the only one I trust to solve this."

"I promise you that I will solve this." He slid his fingers into her hair and slowly massaged her scalp. As she did whenever his anxiety levels shot into double digits. He then looked at Edrisa. "What can you tell me about the thumb?"

"Well, someone is definitely missing one." Embarrassed heat filled the medical examiner's cheeks. "Sorry, that wasn't really appropriate."

"It's okay." Malcolm sent her a reassuring smile. "Just tell me about the thumb."

"Whoever removed it knew exactly what they were doing." She offered him the bag the thumb had been placed in. "The bone was cut clean through at the metacarpophalangeal joint. You can see there's no fragmenting of the bone at the point where the cut was made."

Malcolm kept one arm around Sorcha while taking the bag. No discoloration around the bed of the nail, no necrotic tissue, the thumb had been carefully preserved to prevent decaying.

Why?

His brow furrowed as he studied the severed appendage.

Why would the person who left this in Sorcha's mailbox go out of their way to preserve it?

The answer slammed into him with the force of a category three hurricane: _Because it belongs to someone she knows_.

"Can you get a fingerprint from the thumb?"

"Oh, absolutely." Edrisa's head bobbed up and down with the enthusiasm of her answer. "The finger has been well preserved so I won't have to rehydrate it before I can get a print."

Malcolm handed the bag back to her. "That's the first thing we need to do then."

"Do you think it belongs to someone Miss Corbin knows?"

Sorcha's body shuddered against his. Her quaking fingers curved into his jacket. Malcolm murmured softly to her before sending a look at Edrisa.

Instantly contrite, the medical examiner murmured an embarrassed, "I didn't mean..."

"It's alright, Dr. Tanaka." Sorcha straightened but didn't step back from him. Nor did she uncurl her fingers from the folds of his jacket. "You haven't said anything that I haven't been telling myself since I found that finger in my mailbox."

"Sorch…"

"Mal, we both know this has to be someone I know." Her eyes met his. "Why else would they leave that thumb in my mailbox?"

Malcolm desperately wanted to tell her it was all a mistake. Someone playing a cruel prank. Looking to get a rise out of her or the police.

He couldn't.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, Sorcha was right.

Someone put that thumb in her mailbox for a reason.

_And I have to figure out what that reason is if I want to figure out who put it there._


	3. Chapter 3

"Bright..." Gil sighed as the kid disappeared inside the building.

"Should have known that was gonna happen." JT shook his head. "Guy can't listen worth a damn."

"He could at least have pretended to wait for us."

"Yeah." JT grunted as he exited the vehicle. "Then we'd worry something was wrong with his skinny ass."

"His best friend received a severed thumb in the mail." Dani looked up at the building as she stepped from the vehicle. "That's gonna make Bright more reckless than usual."

"If Tally called to tell me she found a severed finger in our mailbox?" JT blew out a breath as he made his way to the entrance of the building. "I'd act reckless, too."

"C'mon." Gil walked by the crime scene investigators already at work in the foyer of the building. "Let's catch up with him."

They took the stairs up to a spacious apartment. _It looks absolutely nothing like Bright's_ , Gil realized as he slowly looked around. Angles here were soft, surfaces comfortable, warm, leaning towards inviting. Colors were also pale — taupes, creams, and dove gray.

No swords or antique guns filled cases. Shelves built around the huge bay window contained books, picture frames, and DVDs. Only the kitchen looked like something out of a home magazine. Chrome appliances sparkled and marble countertops gleamed in the sunlight.

"Damn." JT whistled long and low. "Bright 2.0's got a nice place."

"It's not hers." Gil saw some photos of him and Jackie and Bright sitting on a shelf. _Good times_ , he thought as he looked at the memories captured in those glossy images. _Happier times_. _Simpler times._

"Bright said this place belongs to one of their friends?" A pensive frown formed between Dani's brows. "Is it possible this has to do with them and not Sorcha?"

"We can't rule anything out." Gil moved to where Sorcha stood off to one side while Bright investigated something in a evidence bag with Edrisa. He set a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She gave a partial nod. "I'm fine."

Hollow-eyed, pale, and far from fine was his opinion. Gil didn't press, though. He simply squeezed her shoulder to let her know he was there if she needed him.

"Have any idea how that thumb might have gotten in your mailbox?"

Sorcha scooped a not quite steady hand through her newly cut hair. Gil suspected the shorter style was her way of shedding the past year.

"Honestly?" Sable curls bobbed as she shook her head. "No."

"Could it have been an accident?"

"I don't think so." Sorcha opened her phone to call up her pictures. She held it up so they could see a picture of the thumb sitting atop other mail in the box. "There's no evidence of the thumb having been severed by the door of my mailbox."

"Oh, it wasn't," Edrisa said as she turned towards them. "Someone definitely cut the thumb off. You can tell by the way they separate the flexor pollicis brevis tendon and the adductor pollicis from the thumb sesamoids."

"Meaning someone did this on purpose." Gil looked over at Bright. "Any idea about who could be doing this and why?"

"It's definitely personal." Gil caught the guilt that flashed across his face and wondered at it. "Whoever did this is sending a message."

"What message?" Dani frowned. "That they can cut off someone's thumb and put it in a mailbox?"

"The severing of a thumb can signify the loss of power and control." Bright turned back to look at the evidence bag the thumb had been placed in. "Whoever did this could feel they don't have a solid grip over their life. They could even be dissatisfied because something in their life didn't go as they wanted." He looked back over his shoulder at Sorcha, his expression grim. "They could even be saying that the rule of thumb was somehow broken."

"Wouldn't that mean whoever did this knows Sorcha personally?" Dani waved a hand around. "They knew what building she lives in, which apartment, put the thumb in her mailbox."

"It could be someone who wants revenge on Sorcha." The kid's shoulders bowed. "Or it could be someone from my past looking to get revenge on me by threatening her."

_That explains the guilt_ , Gil decided as Sorcha heaved a somber sigh.

"Why do you think this could be someone from your past?" he asked him.

"Not like this will come as much of a shock." The kid let out a small, humorless laugh. "But I made a lot of enemies while I worked for the FBI."

"Yeah, you tend to rub people the wrong way," JT agreed with a slight nod. "Got any potential names? We can run them to see if anyone has decided to travel up here to pay your ass a visit."

"There's a number of people I can think of." Bright's brow furrowed. "Many who'd leave a thumb as a warning, in fact."

"You're wrong." Everyone turned to Edrisa. She twitched, unnerved by having so many eyes on her, but pushed on without Gil prompting her. "Well, you're right, but you're also wrong. This is about Miss Corbin."

"How do you know?" Gil asked.

"Well, because someone left a note inside the box set outside Miss Corbin's door."

The hair on the back of Gil's neck crackled. Nobody mentioned a box outside her door. A sense of foreboding came over him. A voice whispered he didn't want to know what was in the box.

He ignored it.

Never once in all his years as a police officer had he shirked his duties or shied away from less than pleasant situations.

He wasn't about to start now.

"What box?"

"Uh, the one Miss Corbin found after she text Mr. Bright about the thumb?"

Gil slanted a look at Sorcha.

"I didn't open it," she said with a small shrug. "I waited until Dr. Tanaka got here and let her open it."

"Guessing it don't contain the other four fingers," JT said.

"Ah, no." Edrisa pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. "It contained a, uhm..." She made a small face. "Tongue."

"The hell?" JT blinked rapidly. "Did you just say there's a tongue in that box?"

"I did, yes."

"Yeah, this case has officially gone beyond weird."

Gil wasn't concerned so much about that as he was about what the note left with the tongue said.

"What did the note say, Edrisa?"

She shot an apologetic look at Sorcha who smiled wanly back at her.

"Uh, well, it said they're going to, uhm, cut out her lying tongue."

"Cut out her tongue?" Dani grimaced. "That seems a bit... extreme."

"Removing someone's tongue is intended to keep them silent." Bright spoke with none of his usual excitement. The manic energy usually rolling off him in waves was absent. A testament to how rattled the kid was by things. "A famous example of this is Philomela, a princess of Athens, who had her tongue removed by Tereus, her brother-in-law, after she threatened to name him as her rapist."

"Muhanned Sulaiman had his tongue removed after he decided to stop working for a group of insurgents." JT folded his arms across his chest. "Received his tongue in the mail a few days later with a note telling him he was lucky to be alive."

"Who'd want to keep Sorcha from talking, though?" Dani questioned. "That's what I can't figure out."

Gil had an idea as to who. A quick look at Bright's face said he did, too. He moved closer to Sorcha, shaky hand inching towards hers, but he did not take hold of it.

Nor did she close the distance as she once would have to grip his hand with her own.

_Burned bridges_ , he realized as a look of pleading shot across the kid's face. _Two people standing on opposite sides of a gorge with nothing but over a decade of memories and lonely feelings_.

And there was nothing he could do to fix it.

They weren't kids and these weren't skinned knees or bruises he could fix with a lollipop and a hug.

They had to find their own way.

Figure out who they were now that things had changed between them.

_If they can_ , he thought as Sorcha folded her arms about herself and looked at Bright with sad, sad eyes.

"Robert's trial begins Monday," he finally said to break the tension. "Doesn't it?"

"It's supposed to but who knows if it will or not." Sorcha heaved a long, weary sigh as she shifted towards him. "Robert's attorney has submitted a bunch of new motions along with a petition for change of venue."

"Course, he did." JT's wry comment brought a small smile. "Knows he don't stand a chance of getting his client off if the case remains here."

"When are you expected to testify if he doesn't grant the petition?"

"He wants to call me first."

"Explains why she received this package today," Dani said. "They want to stop her from testifying."

"Serial killer with a demented fan severing thumbs and sending warnings?" JT grunted. "Yeah, that ain't unusual."

"Robert has an entire harem willing to do his bidding." Sorcha waved a hand to a pile of unopened letters on her kitchen counter. "Any one of them could be behind this."

"You've been receiving messages from his fans?" Furious disapproval coated Bright's voice. "And you didn't think to mention receiving these letters sooner?"

"Most seemed innocuous. Harmless. Just silly people writing silly things." She unfolded her arms and walked over to pick up a handful of envelopes. "These were the most worrisome."

"Hybristophilia could definitely be a reason for them threatening to remove her tongue," Bright said with some of his usual exuberance. "Robert is likely feeding their fantasy with promises of them being together once he's freed."

"He's probably promising to free them from their bondage." Sorcha dropped the envelopes she'd picked up back on the counter. "It was what he said to me when he got me in his dungeon."

Gil would never forget that moment when he found Sorcha in the basement of Robert Harwood's former nightclub, bleeding from a long gash down one arm, her face and body a mottle of bruises and smaller cuts. It was another in a long line of memories he shared with Bright.

"You pose the largest threat to that fantasy not becoming a reality." The kid moved closer to Sorcha, this time curling his fingers around hers. "They have to silence you to get a not guilty verdict."

"Wait." JT looked between Bright and Sorcha. "We talking some perverted Bonnie & Clyde thing here?"

"Yes," Sorcha and Bright replied in unison.

"Right." JT shook his head. "As if this couldn't get any weirder."

"Until we know for sure who this person is." Gil kept his gaze trained on Sorcha, "you need to stay somewhere else."

Bright, predictably, jumped in with a solution.

"She can..."

That Sorcha shot down with a firm, "No."

"But..."

"Absolutely not."

It was a staunch refusal that wouldn't have been given before. That Bright conceded the point.

"You can't stay here."

"I can't stay with you, either."

"Why not?"

_Kid_ , he heaved a sigh but refrained from saying anything.

Dani nudged JT, who ambled away, muttering something beneath his breath that Gil couldn't quite make out.

Not that he couldn't figure out what he was saying.

Even Edrisa withdrew to a safe distance.

"You seriously can't be asking me that," Sorcha said quietly. "You seriously cannot be asking me why I won't come stay with you."

"I don't understand why you refuse to stay with me." He gazed imploringly at her. "Sunshine..."

"I'd rather stay with your mother than with you in your loft."

Malcolm frowned.

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Between living in the place where you and your girlfriend were playing house and your mother? I choose your mother."

A flash of pain raced across Bright's face as he finally grasped why Sorcha refused to stay with him. Gil felt sorry for him. This was unfamiliar territory for the kid.

However, he again refrained from interceding.

They weren't children.

They had to figure out their post-breakup relationship on their own.

Not that Gil believed their separation would last long.

They never did.

Jackie once told him they'd always end up circling back to each other.

" _What's between them is too strong to keep them apart."_

_"He may lose her for good if he doesn't stop this pattern of pulling her close and then pushing her away."_

_"Malcolm needs to learn he can lose her." Her fingers slipped between his. "It's the only way he will realize how important she is to him."_

Bright definitely learned that this time around.

"Sorch..."

"I won't stay with you." Jaw set. Shoulders squared. "Not this time."

"Then go and stay with Sean and Mandy."

"They're upstate." She flicked a mildly reproving look at him from beneath lowered lashes. "RJ is getting married this weekend. Don't worry..." There was a bite, a quick, nasty nip, in her tone. "I told them you have a case and can't get away this weekend to attend."

_Well, it wasn't a lie_ , Gil realized. _They did have a case._

She was just at the heart of it.

"That why you have a suitcase by the door?" JT questioned as Bright grimaced. "And that ugly ass peach thing over that chair?"

"That ugly ass thing is not my dress." Her mouth crooked up at the corners. "It's Mandy's. She's maid of honor."

"You lucked out."

"Oh, no, I didn't." She indicated a bag beneath the first. "Mine is even uglier than hers."

"We were supposed to go together," Bright said quietly.

"Yes, we were."

Sorcha disappeared into her room as Bright's shoulders sagged beneath the guilt and regret etched on his face.

Gil ran a hand over his face as he released a weary sigh.

He had no idea what to do.

His kids were bleeding but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

All he could do was find whoever threatening Sorcha and put them behind bars before they could carry out their threat.

"Uh, I hate to intrude here..." Edrisa said nervously. "But I found something else in the box with the note."

Gil hesitated to ask but did. "What?"

"A, uh, eyeball."


	4. Chapter 4

The Woman had done as they wanted by calling The Infidel to her den of inequity.

Only, The Infidel brought his infernal Interlopers with him.

Master had not anticipated them showing up when he instructed them with what he wanted them to do.

Vexation coursed through them as they watched the sycophants walk out of the building with the Woman safely surrounded by them.

They had not foreseen this.

No, they hadn't calculated on the Interlopers taking the Woman and hiding her from them.

No matter.

They could easily adapt their plan.

Stretch out the torment, make the pain linger before granting the two death. Their heart beat a soft staccato as they imagined the agony kidnapping the Meddler would cause the Woman and the Infidel.

_Why, they'd be absolutely devastated_ , they realized as the Meddler, Woman, and Infidel climbed into the pretty Mustang parked in front of the brownstone.

The Meddler was the key to bringing the Infidel and the Woman to them.

The Woman would offer herself in exchange for him.

And The Infidel would do anything to protect The Woman and the Meddler.

It was the perfect solution to this problem.

Master would approve.

_And he will reward us once he is freed_.

Their lips curved as they followed from a safe distance.

...

Gil decided to stash Sorcha at Jessica's purely because there'd be someone there to keep an eye on her.

Not that Sorcha was thrilled about it when he told her of his intentions.

"You know I was just kidding when I said I'd rather stay with Malcolm's mother than with him, right?"

"Here is safer than anywhere else I can think of at this moment."

"I could go stay at Uncle Hoyt or Jamie's."

"Whoever is threatening you will figure out quickly you are staying at one of your family's places."

"They'll likely figure out I'm staying here faster than at one of my family's places."

"Bright will make sure to keep you safe."

His other reason for stashing Sorcha here with Jessica. Long as she was staying with his mother he could guarantee where the kid would be. Manipulative, sure. He learned with Bright to use whatever means necessary to keep him from getting into trouble.

"Safe." Unhappiness broke through to haunt her face. "The one thing I can be sure of with him."

Gil bit back a sigh and again refrained from saying anything.

It wasn't his place and it wasn't his life.

Besides, JT got in enough digs for all of them.

"I know things between you and Bright are tense right now."

"They're not tense." The hands on her knees shook. The only outward sign her anxiety was kicking in. "They're a cluster..." she stopped, sighed. "Well, you get my meaning."

"He's going to need you." Gil set a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it gently. "You know that, right?"

"And I'll be there for him." She lifted red-rimmed eyes to his. "It'll just be as his friend."

"Loving Bright isn't easy."

Something Gil knew all too well.

"Getting my wisdom teeth extracted was a lot less painful than loving him has been."

Gil hummed a quiet laugh.

"You picked him," he reminded her. "Don't forget that."

Her lips crooked upwards.

"Are you channeling my dad here?"

"He used to tell you the same thing?"

"Yeah..." She brushed her hair behind her ears. "He started saying that after the third time me and Malcolm went through this."

"How many times have you two broken up?"

Gil could remember three times. By her words, though, it was far more than that.

"Can't technically break-up when you've never officially made it to relationship status."

"How many times have you not made it to relationship status?"

"This makes the seventh time." She looked back down at her hands. "It's my own fault, really. I told myself he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not after what Watkins did to him. But Valentine's..." she broke off, sighed. "I should have known better. I'm the logical one. I should have followed my head and not my heart."

"You and Bright have to figure out things between you."

"We're friends without benefits is what we are."

"You've never just been friends with benefits." Soft, but firm. "That's your hurt and bitterness talking."

"I can't keep doing this, Gil," she admitted with a pained expression. "I can't keep letting myself be his fallback option. The second choice. I deserve better than that and does he."

"Yes, you do," he agreed as a small sound came from the foyer. Gil had a feeling someone was standing by the door and listening to what was being said. And he had a good idea about _who_ that person was. "Don't give up on Bright," he told her. "He's a work in a progress."

_And he loves you_ , he added silently. _He just doesn't know how to tell you or show you_.

Mostly because the kid didn't believe he deserved happiness.

"How do I trust he's with me for me? That I'm not just old-reliable?"

"Love requires faith."

"It also requires trust." She lifted her eyes back to his. "I have to trust him to do more than solve a case or save me from the serial killer I stupidly got involved with."

"You have to trust he loves you."

Her fingers moved to her wrist. _Her naked wrist_ , Gil realized with a pang. He hadn't known Sorcha returned the charm bracelet Bright bought her at Christmas. _Kid_... he swallowed his sigh. _You really have made a mess of things here._

"I trust he loves me, Gil." Her head lowered. "I trust he needs me. I just don't trust that he wants to be with me. Not in the same way I want to be with him."

…

Sorcha's words cut Malcolm to the quick. It wasn't like he could fault her for them.

_Seven times. I've done this to her seven times_.

It was no wonder she had no faith in him.

He had none in himself.

"I thought Valentine's meant something." Her voice warbled, sticking the knife in his heart a little bit deeper and twisting it. "He went to such lengths to make it a perfect evening. It replaced the night where he gave me my first charm bracelet. Now?" Her sigh was like an arrow shot into his side. "Now, I'm left wondering if he did all that for me..." her voice dropped an octave. "Or if it really was for _her_ and he was just using me to fulfill his fantasy."

Sorcha couldn't really think he'd do something like that to her, could she?

' _She does have a point, though, doesn't she, my boy_?' His father said from the opposite end of the foyer. ' _I mean, you, ah, created this ideal romantic fantasy and less than a week later were back with the woman you suspected of keeping secrets from you. Bit of bad form there_.'

And look how well things with Eve turned out, was the only thought that played through Malcolm's mind. His heart broken twice, Sorcha's trust in him shaken, both of them miserable, and neither of them able to reach out to the other for comfort.

' _That's real love, my boy. Opening yourself up to being hurt and dealing with it when it happens_.'

"I should have handled things differently."

' _Well, uh, yeah, you should have_ ,' his father agreed. ' _See, women don't take kindly to their boyfriends inviting the woman they had a one night stand with over for an intimate dinner_.' He dropped his voice to a conspirators whisper. ' _Tend to get a little jealous. Now, if you know how to use that anger and jealousy to your advantage it can be great fun_.' A small smile appeared through his thick whiskers. ' _But we'll, uh, save that lesson for the next time you find yourself in this sort of situation_.'

Malcolm already decided there wouldn't be a next time. He didn't know how to handle the intricacies of interpersonal relationships. He barely functioned as a friend. It was better for all involved if he just focused on what he understood best: solving murders.

' _That's a bit extreme, don't you think_?'

Malcolm scoffed softly. He didn't think it extreme at all.

' _See, that's your problem, my boy. You give up too easily. Oh, and, uh, blame everyone else for your problems_.'

Before Malcolm could tell his father that he was the cause of his problems, the front door opened. _Crap_! He went to dart up the stairs but for some reason his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor.

Stuck, he could do nothing but watch as his mother strode into the foyer, a burst of cold air and snow flurries blowing in with her. She stopped when she saw him, eyes widening with a mixture of shock, curiosity, and then suspicion.

"Malcolm!" She sent him one of her patented mom smiles. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"You can thank me for that," Gil said as he walked out of the living room. "I brought him with me."

"Gil." Her gaze shifted between him and Malcolm. Open speculation. Silent wonder. Eternal resignation. "I'd offer you a drink..." She waved a hand through the air. "But I'm sure you can't have one because there's some case that just has to be solved."

"Actually, that is why we are here."

"I'm shocked." Sarcasm was his mother's preferred weapon of choice and she wielded it better than anyone Malcolm knew. "Truly."

Gil was accustomed to it so he just stepped towards his mother, a small smile appearing through his goatee.

"Jessica, I need a favor."

"A favor?" His mother's eyes narrowed as she looked first at him and then over at Malcolm. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"It's not me," Malcolm protested but then he stopped. Grimaced. "Well, I don't _think_ it's me..."

"Out with it, Malcolm."

He flinched at her sharp tone. His mother didn't have much patience to begin with, and abhorred dancing around a subject. Either tell her or don't was her philosophy.

Personally, he wanted to avoid telling her someone sent a severed thumb, tongue, and eyeball to Sorcha.

Practically, he knew he couldn't avoid telling her about it because of Gil's plan to hide Sorcha here while they searched for the person responsible.

He finally settled on, "Sorcha received a threatening message at the apartment she's been subletting."

He didn't add since she moved out of his loft over a month ago.

Where she had been safe.

It wasn't his mother's fault for what happened. Her intention had only been to get Eve on the phone so they could talk about what happened between them. He chose to take what he proposed as a clearing of the air dinner to a place it should never have gone.

He paid the price for that choice when Sorcha left him after seeing history about to repeat itself and then again after Eve walked out of his life after learning her sister was still alive.

"My god." His mother's face lost a bit of the normal glacier calm that suffused it. "Why on Earth would anyone want to threaten her?"

"Because she's testifying against her ex-boyfriend next week."

"The serial killer?"

"Yes."

"Oh, how well I remember the humiliation of sitting in a courtroom and having the intimate details of my life made public record."

"Sorcha can stay here then, Jessica?"

His mother slanted a look at Gil. "Of course, she can. Anyone can help her prepare for what she's about to endure it is me."

"I have patrol units taking shifts to make sure nobody tries to get into the house while she is here."

"Yes, well, I have also had the tunnel beneath the house completely sealed off to make sure no more serial killers get into my house that way." His mother turned to head for the living room. She stopped to look appraisingly at Malcolm. "I assume you will be staying here, as well?"

He hadn't given it much thought until that moment.

Part of him wanted to say yes because he needed, desperately to make sure nothing happened to Sorcha.

The other part of him wasn't sure she'd appreciate him staying here much less trying to protect her.

Gil chose that moment to pull the rug out from beneath him.

"He'll be staying here, too."

"Excellent!" She then turned to sail into the living room, calling over her shoulder, "I expect you home for dinner then."


	5. Chapter 5

Malcolm waited until they were in the car before asking, "Why did you tell my mother I'd be staying at the house?"

"Because the one thing I know you won't do with Sorcha in danger is go off on your own." Gil glanced over at his sigh, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "You're still in enough trouble with her from running off after Watkins."

Malcolm resisted the urge to squirm at that pointed reminder of his failure to live up to another promise he made Sorcha.

"Sorcha..."

"Needs you." Gil reached over and set a hand on the back of his neck. "That's why she reached out to you when she found that finger in her mailbox."

"She doesn't trust me, Gil."

"What do you mean she doesn't trust you?" Gil's brow furrowed. "Bright, the first person she called was _you_."

"She doesn't trust I'm doing this for her." Some of his hurt leaked through to coat his voice. "She thinks I'm doing this because I need a distraction from my breakup with Eve."

"You were listening at the entryway."

Malcolm ducked his head, feeling like a kid being scolded for doing something wrong. Which, he had, he admitted as he buried his quaking hands between his knees. He'd been listening to their private conversation.

"I was, yes."

"Kid—"

"I know I shouldn't have been listening." He shifted in his seat. _It's not a squirm_ , he told himself. _I'm just making myself more comfortable is all_. "I meant to announce myself. I just..."

"Couldn't help yourself?"

"She isn't talking to me." Frustration snapped and snarled within the comforting blanket of white noise always in his head. "Not about what happened between us."

Which he admitted was his fault. He had been the one to walk away from their relationship. Not her.

"She's still hurting is why, kid. She needs time to work through her feelings. And," Gil added, squeezing his neck gently, "you're the last person she wants to talk to about her feelings. Especially since you're the reason for why she's hurting."

"She doesn't trust me, Gil." He stared down at the hands quivering between his knees. "She has every reason _not_ to trust me. I haven't kept any of the promises I've made to her."

"She trusts you, Bright." Those fingers again gently squeezed his neck. Quietly reassuring. Subtly calming. "She trusts you with her life."

"Just not her heart."

"You broke it." Gil became serious now. The parent telling a child what they did. "You gotta fix it."

"I don't know how to fix it." Every word dripped with the frustration pulsating beneath his skin. "We're broken like I'm broken."

"You're not broken, kid. You've just hit a bad patch." Gil started the car. "All couples have them."

"We're not a couple."

_And I doubt we ever will be_ , he added as they started back to the precinct.

...

So, the Meddler and Infidel thought hiding The Woman here at his childhood home would keep her safe?

Out of their reach?

What fools they were.

There was no where they could hide the whore, bitch that'd be safe.

Not from them.

They were legion.

Master had tasked them with making The Woman and The Infidel suffer for their perfidy.

_And suffer they will._

It was time, they decided, to deliver their next present.

This one intended for the Infidel.

Oh, and what a present it was!

Four glossy photographs lovingly captured.

All with a personalized message written by them in the blood of the Betrayer.

Seeing these photographs would utterly devastate the Infidel.

Send him spiraling into a deep, dark depression.

Make him vulnerable.

Reckless.

As they wanted him.

They chuckled, long and low as they watched The Infidel and The Meddler drive off in the Woman's car.

...

"We got a hit off that thumb," JT announced as he ambled into the conference room a short time after Malcolm and Gil returned. "Belonged to one Edward Green." He handed the file over to Dani before taking a seat in a chair. "Works as a cognitive behavior therapist. Specializes in trauma and post traumatic stress disorders."

"Says here he works with military personnel and police." Dani looked up from the file, a frown between her eyes. "What's his connection to Sorcha?"

"He's her therapist." A tremor rattled from Malcolm's fingers into his wrist and all the way up his arm. He buried his hand under the table to keep them from noticing it. "He was recommended to her by the therapist I see."

"Your girl's seeing a shrink?"

His heart twisted at those words.

"Sorcha's not my girl." He struggled to keep his voice calm. "She's my friend."

"She's your girl." JT ignored Dani's soft cough. "She's just annoyed as all hell at you for what you did."

"With good reason."

"Yup." No sympathy at all coated JT's tone. "Up to you to give her a good reason to stop being annoyed with you."

Something told Malcolm flowers wouldn't be JT's solution for how to fix things between he and Sorcha.

Not that he believed things could be fixed between them.

"When did she start seeing a therapist?" Dani asked in an attempt to stir things back to a place Malcolm found easier to navigate. "Was it before she was dating Harwood or did she start seeing him after what he did to her?"

"After." Flashes of what Robert Harwood had done to Sorcha assaulted Malcolm. He pushed them aside. Not away because that was beyond his capability. Much like pushing aside his own memories was. "Her family insisted on it."

_Same as she insisted on me seeing Gabrielle after what I went through at the hands of John Watkins_.

He had gone twice before stopping. Told himself he walked away from Watkins only moderately scathed, he was functionally fine, and didn't need help dealing with what Watkins had said or done to him.

Another promise broken.

Another reason why Sorcha didn't trust him.

"Makes sense she'd see someone after what Harwood did to her." Dani set the folder across the legs she folded beneath her. "What's the point of sending her therapists thumb to her, though? What purpose does it serve?"

"It's a personal message." Nausea rolled through his belly. For one increasingly frustrating moment, Malcolm thought he'd be sick. He clenched his teeth to keep the bile surging into his throat from spewing out all over the table. "They're telling her they know all her secrets." Nervous energy pumped beneath his skin. Tingled along every nerve. Malcolm popped out of his chair and paced behind it, needing the movement to keep himself grounded. "They know everything about her and are going to use that knowledge to make her pay for what she's done."

"What she's done?" Dani's lips pursed. "What has she done that could warrant this?"

"Bright-Light's broken the rule of thumb."

"How, though?"

Malcolm had a few ideas but none he felt comfortable sharing without Sorcha there to give permission.

"Lite-Bright broke a principal rule by being in a relationship with Harwood." JT folded his arms across his chest and looked over at Malcolm, "and with Bright."

"But..." Malcolm started but JT shook his head.

"No."

"We..."

"Are weird as hell." He nodded. "Yeah, we get that. Funny thing is we still like your weird asses in spite of it."

Malcolm fought the urge to smile.

Failed.

As he had everything else in his life.

"I don't see us as weird."

"You two are the poster people for weird as hell."

"Uh, Mr. Bright?"

Malcolm lifted his head to look at the officer framed in the doorway. He had never seen the dark-haired woman around the precinct before today but that didn't mean anything. Cops transferred in and out all the time. _A new batch just graduated from the academy, too_.

However, something seemed _familiar_ about the woman. Malcolm was positive he had seen the officer somewhere before.

He just couldn't remember when or where.

"Yes?" A glance at the tag fixed to the front of their blue uniform provided him with the officer's last name. "Officer Boranza?"

"This envelope was just dropped off for you."

A quizzical frown creased Malcolm's brow as he looked at the yellow envelope the officer offered him and then back at her.

"They said it's for me?" At her nod, his curiosity spiked. "Did they say what it is?"

"Just that it was something you needed to see."

"Did you see who dropped it off?" JT sat forward in his chair, eyebrows slightly raised. "Male, female?"

"It was delivered by courier service, sir."

Malcolm took the envelope, felt it for weight, and shape. It wasn't especially heavy. He safely concluded it didn't have the remaining fingers of Doctor Greene. What it did contain, he didn't know. He nodded to the officer.

"Thank you."

The officer nodded before turning and walking away. Malcolm continued to stare at the envelope, unease slithering through his belly as he wondered what it contained. His FBI training urged him to turn the envelope over for testing but a voice — one of the many inside his messed up head — told him he didn't want to do that.

"Bright? You want me or JT to open that for you?"

"No." He turned the envelope over. "I'll do it."

"Why don't we get it checked for a bomb, drugs or..." JT broke off as Malcolm already tore the envelope open. "You just do you like you always do."

"It's not heavy enough for either a bomb or missing fingers."

"And since no white substance exploded in your face we can rule out it containing drugs," JT drolled.

"High Bright wasn't such a fun Bright." Dani's voice was lightly teasing. "Drunk Bright wasn't so bad until he started singing bad pop songs."

Malcolm hummed a laugh as he looked inside the envelope. His brow furrowed when he saw it contained a small stack of papers. _A packet of some sort_? He checked the front of the envelope but there was no company name listed on the return address.

In fact, there was no name written in the return address section.

Just an address.

_His address_ , he realized, fingers spasming. It was his address listed on the front of the envelope.

"Bright?" Concern laced Dani's tone. "What's in the envelope?"

"Papers." He barely got the word out around the lump in his throat. He swallowed before saying again, "Papers. A stack of papers.

"Papers?" JT's brow knit. "What kinda papers?"

"I don't know," Malcolm murmured as he pulled the papers out and turned them over to look at them. His breath whooshed out of him as a set of images stared back at him.

One single word had been scrawled across the front of each individual page to form one single threat:

_Whore, bitch must die._

Horror and shock washed over him, flooded through him as he stared at those crimson words.

Emotions slammed into each other, leaving him weak and trembling. Pain, fear, fury, all so intense, all so immediate, he became dizzy from them.

Bands formed around his head, his chest.

Tightening, tightening.

Until he thought he'd pass out from the pressure.

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut to block out the images.

The threatening words.

Harder for him to shut off was his own mind. Images flashed across the back of his eyelids: skin like hot satin gleaming in the moonlight, hair a silken curtain falling around them, naked limbs intertwining, breath intermingling.

A wholly private moment.

An intimate one.

Captured on film by someone who had been somewhere nearby.

_Watching_.

Without either of their knowledge or permission.

His quaking fingers curled around the pictures, crumbling the damning images between them.

Gil's hand, warm and familiar settled on the back of his neck. Only, it didn't bring him the comfort it normally did.

Not this time.

It only pushed him farther over that edge he had been tottering on since Eve walked out of his life. He shoved Gil's arm away and stumbled to the door, throwing over his shoulder, "I need some air."


	6. Chapter 6

_Whore. Cheat. Liar._

Master gave The Woman everything.

He treated her special.

Showered her with gifts.

Placed her on a pedestal.

Gave her his undivided attention.

In return, The Woman betrayed him.

Deceived him.

Was unfaithful to him.

Interfered in his mission.

Aided The Interlopers in locking him in a cage.

As if Master was some animal.

_Whore, bitch._

Master said she must pay for her infidelity.

Her disloyalty.

Learn what it meant to obey.

Making her watch as they slowly removed The Infidel's heart from his chest was only the beginning of her punishment.

They had many more things planned.

She'd beg them to finish what Master started before The Infidel saved her.

Oh, and they'd grant her wish.

_Eventually_.

After they taught her about obeying Master they'd show her the nothingness that lay at the end of oblivion.

They cackled, long and low as they watched The Infidel pace in front of the steps of the police precinct.

_Soon_ , they promised as they started their car and drove off. They'd bathe in the blood of The Infidel's soon.

And they could not wait.

…

The last time Malcolm stepped out of the precinct for a breath of air had been on the day Paul Lazar — as they called him until discovering his real name was John Watkins — led him into an old service tunnel and crushed his ribs in a turnstile.

Watkins wasn't here this time.

He wasn't the cause of his distress.

No, someone else was. Someone watching and waiting to lure him into a far deadlier trap than the one Watkins led him into.

_Whore, bitch must die._

Those words had been written in what he suspected wouldn't turn out as some exotic brand of red ink.

No, he had a feeling the blood belonged to Edward Greene.

Each word had been written in the same flourishing style of writing as on the front of the envelope.

The writer could be male or female.

Same as whoever took those photographs of him and Sorcha in his loft.

Violated.

Exposed.

_Whore, bitch must die._

Whoever this was, they were targeting Sorcha.

Attacking the people closest to her.

Exposing her secrets.

Circling around her like a bird of prey.

Waiting to swoop in and feast on what remained of her once they were through destroying her life.

Why, though? That was what Malcolm couldn't figure out. Why were they attacking Sorcha? Was it like JT suggested? That she broke the principal rule about not dating two people at the same time.

They hadn't been dating.

_Well, we hadn't been dating to my recollection_ , he amended with a grimace.

Admittedly, he had been clueless about the depth of his relationship with Sorcha until just before Watkins kidnapped him. He simply thought of them as friends — _best friends_ , he amended as he released a shaky breath and took a seat on the middle step.

Yes, they called each other.

Emailed.

Text and Skyped.

Sorcha had come to Washington a month before his firing from the bureau. They spent the time as they usually did: visiting historical sites and museums, watching movies, and talking about things of interest to them.

Nothing physical happened between them until after Harwood had been arrested for her attempted murder.

_Did Harwood think that, though_?

His brow furrowed as he let that thought work through his mind.

Was this less about stopping Sorcha from testifying and more because Harwood believed she had been unfaithful to him?

_Whore, bitch must die_.

A tremor rattled from his fingers into his wrist as those words played through his mind once again.

Words of intense anger, jealousy, passion.

Signifying ownership.

Possession.

And a desire to see someone punished for what was imagined as a personal crime.

Words fed to a fanatic by a malignant narcissist.

He almost lost her to Robert Harwood once.

If he hadn't found her when he did...

_She'd be dead._ Another tremor rattled through his fingers as images from that basement played through his mind. If he had gotten there five minutes later…

Gil sat down on the step beside him, drawing Malcolm away from his dark thoughts.

He didn't touch him, though.

Thankfully.

There was only one person he wanted to touch him at that moment and she was currently angry with him. _Understandably so_ , he thought as he released a shaky sigh.

"Why don't I take you to your mother's?"

"We have to solve this case." He lifted burning eyes to Gil's. "We have to stop whoever is doing this before they..."

"We will," Gil assured him quietly. "For now, you need to go and talk with Sorcha. Tell her about those photographs."

"No." The last thing he wanted her finding out about was those photographs. "I don't want Sorcha finding out about them."

"She needs to be told." Gil kept his tone light but there was a sharp edge lurking beneath it that told Malcolm he wouldn't take no for an answer. "Her privacy was violated as much as yours."

"I know it was but—"

"This should come from you, kid." Gil set his hand on his neck then. "Not me or Dani or JT." Those fingers gently squeezed. " _You_."

"Gil." Tears formed but he rejected them. He had to much he needed to do. He couldn't give into his irrational urge to bury his head in his hands and scream until he was hoarse. "Finding out someone was watching as we..." He fumbled to finish the sentence. Gil wasn't simply his boss or his friend. He was his _mentor_. And there were some things he didn't want to discuss with his mentor. His sex life one of them. "That they took photographs of us?" His hand spasmed. "Do you know how much that will hurt her?"

"This was an immensely private moment that someone intruded on for selfish purposes." Anger glimmered in the depths of Gil's eyes. Ticked in his jaw. "It's why you need to tell Sorcha about the photographs. That anger, shame, and humiliation is shared between you. So should the comfort."

Malcolm stared at a crack in the pavement.

"Last thing she wants is comfort from me."

"You're the only person she wants comfort from. That's why she reached out to you in the first place. You're the only one she trusts to make this right."

"Because all I know is murder." He didn't bother to mask his bitterness. What was the point in hiding it? "It's the only thing I'm good at."

"It's a place to work from." Gil set a hand to his shoulder. "Now, come on. Let's go figure out who did this so that we can put them behind bars."

Mentally exhausted, sick to the core of his being, all Malcolm could do was nod and follow him back inside the precinct.

...

"Damn," JT muttered for what seemed like the tenth time. "Damn."

Dani looked over the top of her computer screen at him, her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Them pictures." His brow lowered over the ridge of his nose. "That's just some messed up shit."

"I wish we could destroy them." Dani cast a glance at the board and the pictures in question. Her stomach curdled at seeing such a private moment used to cause pain. "I want to act like they never came. As if they don't exist."

"Yeah, me too." JT thumped his hand on the conference table. "Dammit, stuff like that should remain between the people involved."

"Whoever is behind this wants to make it clear that they know everything about Bright and Sorcha."

"Telling you..." JT tapped one of the folders on the table. "Harwood is behind this."

"He's in jail, though."

"Yeah, and?" JT sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Bright's old man is locked away in Claremont and he's still orchestrating crap if you believe Lite-Bright."

"We need to get a look at his visitor log." A frown formed between Dani's eyes as she stared back at her computer screen. "See who has been visiting him regularly."

"I'll make a call." JT shoved to his feet. "Know somebody who knows somebody who can help with expediting things."

Dani didn't bother to ask him how he knew someone who could potentially cut through the red tape for them.

Way she saw it?

Any source they could use at this point was to their benefit.

_And theirs_ , she realized as her gaze strayed again to the board and the pictures she wouldn't ever unsee.

_Whore, bitch must die._

Whoever wrote those words was a monster.

One who deserved to rot in a cell for the rest of their life.

Right beside Robert Harwood if JT was right about the man's involvement.

And much as Dani hated to admit it, she believed JT was right. Harwood was involved. How to prove it, though?

She didn't know.

_We will find a way to prove it_.

She returned to scouring Edward Greene's phone records, hoping to find something that would lead them to who was behind this.

...

"Whoever is doing this has thought out every inch of their plan. They're methodical, meticulous. They've left nothing to chance. Every move they've made so far has been flawless. Precise." Malcolm stared at the white board. At the pictures that left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, assaulted without having been physically touched. "They've been carefully orchestrating this for a while. Since early December or maybe late November if I was to hazard a guess."

"Why do you think late November to early December?" A frown formed between Dani's eyes. "It could have been anytime this year."

"Sorcha didn't start seeing Edward Greene until the end of November." His hands shook. He buried them in his pockets. "And these pictures are from early December."

_It had been a particularly hard day_ , he recalled as JT released a frustrated sound. The case they were working had hit a bit too close to home for he and Gil.

A boy calling the police to stop his serial killer father before he could kill again.

A boy who ended up dead before cops could arrive to check out his story.

He had returned to his loft in a daze.

In need of comfort and solace.

Craving love and affection.

Only for it to become a weapon used against him and the woman who gave him those things.

The white noise, his one constant next to his father, buzzed louder. Drowned out all other sounds. His head spun. His lungs burned. His body felt as thin, as fragile as smoke. Any minute and he expected to dissipate.

"This is some messed up shit." JT's voice snapped Malcolm back to the present. "Someone sent me pics of Tally and I like that? I'd find their asses and beat the hell outta 'em."

Malcolm couldn't deny that wasn't his first reaction when he opened the envelope and saw the photos.

Gil must have sensed that because he reached over and set a hand on the back of his neck. Squeezed gently. Silent comfort and support. Desperately needed in the wake of his private life being exposed.

"We'll get them, Bright." Another squeeze. "I promise."

He trusted that.

He believed that.

He had, too.

"Now, go home."

Malcolm missed the concerned looks that passed between Dani and JT when he left the room without issuing any of his usual complaints.


	7. Chapter 7

Telling Sorcha the thumb belonged to her therapist, Edward Green turned out far easier than Malcolm expected.

The pictures delivered to the precinct turned out much harder for him to tell her about. It wasn't the conversation he wanted to have with her.

Not when it was about a set of pictures that shouldn't rightly exist.

Pictures that now belonged to a rapidly growing pile of evidence.

Pictures that could easily get leaked to the press to further humiliate them and their family.

' _You could, ah, destroy them_ ,' his father suggested from his seat on the couch. ' _Really show her how much you care_.'

Malcolm considered that as he stood there, watching helplessly as the blood drained from Sorcha's face. If he could have destroyed the photographs, he would have. _Maybe once we find whoever sent them I can request they be given to me and destroy them then_.

Maybe, but not likely.

"What?" Sorcha finally managed in a small, strangled sound. "Someone... _what_?"

"I'm sorry." He went to take a step toward her but found he couldn't move. It was as if his feet had been glued to the floor. Helpless, frustrated, he could only stare at her. Silently begging her to close the distance between them. "Sorch, I'm sorry..."

"Us?" Her hands trembled at her sides, and her breath whooshed out of her as she fought to process the damning information. "The pictures were of _us_?"

"Yes."

"In your loft?" Miserable, he could only nod. "When we...?" Her hands waved through the air as she struggled to find the words to express what she wanted to say. "While we...?"

What could he do but confirm her unfinished questions with a pained, "Yes."

Tears glazed her eyes. Slicked her ashen cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed. Raw, naked vulnerability shimmered across her face. Punched him hard in the gut.

God, he hated this.

Hated hurting her.

And hated himself for being the one to hurt her.

He didn't have a choice, though. Gil had been right when he told him he needed to tell her about the pictures.

It did need to come from him.

Not Gil, JT or even Dani.

_Him_.

"Oh, God..."

"I'm sorry." More than he ever could say. "I didn't want to tell you but Gil said..." Sorcha swayed as she took a step back. "Hey, hey." He bolted forward, gently gripping her arms and lowering her into a chair. "Sit. Breathe."

How many times had she told him to do that?

Hundreds. Thousands.

Deep breathing was what Sorcha did when midterms, piles of homework, and finals pushed her anxiety into overdrive.

Breathe in, hold for a few seconds, and then breathe out. Repeat as necessary. It helped her relieve the anxiety caused by school demands and expectations.

She suggested it to him whenever he would have anxiety attacks but he always told her it didn't work.

Not for him.

_It didn't work for me until that night in the hospital_ , he realized as her breath wheezed out of her.

"Breathe," he coaxed as he ran his hands up and down her arms in an effort to calm her. "In, out. Like you taught me."

"Trying," she panted. "Can't."

How often had he used those exact words when she told _him_ to breathe?

Hundreds. Thousands.

"Take deep breaths." Her hands rattled so he took them in his. The icy feel of them shocked him but he kept his facial expressions controlled and his voice soft, gentle. "Fill your chest and belly with air."

_Like you've told me to do all those hundreds, thousands of times_.

"It's all right," she finally said after a few more tense seconds. "I'm all right."

_So, that's what those words sound like. No wonder nobody believes me when I say them_.

"You're not all right." How could she be all right when he wasn't? "You're not all right, at all, Sorch."

"No, I'm not." Her lips curved into a wobbly smile. "I'm moderately fine."

Malcolm didn't especially enjoy having his words parroted at him. Under the circumstances, however, he couldn't fault her for them.

"Sorch—" His fingers trembled on her arms. "I am going to fix this. I promise you that."

_And I will keep this promise_ , he vowed silently. He would catch whoever was doing this and see them locked away for the rest of their lives.

"Finding whoever did this won't make either of us feel better, Mal." Someone knocked on the front door but Malcolm ignored it. There'd be someone to get the door. "Our privacy was violated. Our sex life exposed without our knowledge or consent. The only thing that could make this worse would be finding out we're trending on social media."

"Ains would have called if that was the case."

"Can see the headline now." Sorcha linked their fingers. "Scandal yet again rocks the Whitly family as photographs of former FBI agent Malcolm Bright were released on social media."

"That sounds like the headline they'd use."

"Ains would probably lead-off by saying something about finally having proof that you know how to do something other than catch murderers and yeet out windows onto cars."

Malcolm hummed a laugh. "Sounds like what Ainsley would say."

"Siblings are a curse and a blessing." Her thumb traced his knuckles. Offering silent support and desperately needed comfort. "Especially when it comes to situations like this."

"I honestly don't know how you've put up with my family for all these years really."

"Benefit of being from a big family."

"Yours doesn't have the level of scandal attached to it that mine does."

"Oho..." Amusement sang in her voice. "That's what _you_ think."

"Your family has been involved in scandal?" One brow lifted. "I don't believe that."

"Well, there were a few Brannigan's who ran with Owney Madden during Prohibition."

Malcolm sat back on his heels. "Bootleggers? Seriously? That's what you consider a scandal?"

"Well, there's also rumors about an affair between one of the male Corbin's and a member of the royal family." Her eyes twinkled with a spark of her usual mischief. "A _male_ member, that is."

"That's more of a scandal," he conceded with a small smile.

"We need to focus on this particular scandal." Sorcha let out a little sigh, her only sign of distress. "Especially before they go after anybody else."

Malcolm didn't disagree. They absolutely did need to figure out who was behind this and put a stop to them. There was just one problem.

"We don't have any suspects we can go and interview. And Robert Harwood is off limits." Malcolm blew out a breath. "He got put in solitary."

"Wait." Sorcha frowned. "Robert's in solitary?"

Malcolm nodded. "Was put there three days ago. Which fits the timeframe Edrisa has given us on when Doctor Greene's thumb likely was removed."

"Meaning whoever Robert has brainwashed into doing this has been in contact with him somewhere in the last week."

"JT called in a favor to get a look at his visitor log."

"There's only one person who'd visit Robert outside of his lawyer."

"Who?"

"His twin brother, Dylan."

Malcolm's brow furrowed. "He has a twin?"

"I thought I mentioned him?"

"Not by name, no." Excitement at having a potential suspect to track down and talk with cleared the anxiety and anger from his mind. "Tell me about him."

"Well..." She paused, lips pursed. "Dylan is younger by six minutes. Went to Boston University and then Grossman. Just finished his surgical residency."

"He's a surgeon?" Pieces started to click together in Malcolm's mind. The precision of the cuts to Doctor Greene's thumb and the tongue had definitely been done by someone with medical training. "Of what?"

"Pediatrics."

The connection between twins was a fascinating one. Many developed their own language while others could be so in-tune with their twin that they knew when the other was in danger. Some were even capable of sensing or "reading" their twins thoughts. For the most part, the connection was considered harmless.

However, there were instances where that connection took a dark turn. Especially if the twins grew up around extreme violence. Another possibility, and more alarming to Malcolm was the possibility that the twins suffered from a sort of " _folie a deux_ ".

Twins diagnosed with this extremely rare psychological phenomenon were believed to have a shared delusional disorder or psychosis. Paranoid delusions especially were believed capable of being transmitted from one twin to the other because they were intimately associated, allowing them to share the same delusional ideas.

_Whore, bitch must die._

Were they the delusional words of a brother trying to right a wrong done to his brother?

There was only one way to find out.

Malcolm reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.

"Mal, you don't think Dylan is behind this, do you?"

"He fits the profile."

"No." She shook her head. "I don't believe he's the one doing this."

"Sorch…"

"If you knew Dylan, you'd know he isn't capable of something like this."

It was on the top of Malcolm's tongue to remind Sorcha she hadn't thought Robert Harwood capable of raping and murdering close to twenty women but he didn't. Today had been bad enough without him adding to it with that reminder.

"Even if he isn't the one behind this we should still talk to him."

She conceded his point with a nod. Malcolm dialed Gil.

"Gil, I got a lead. It's... what?" A chill crept over him as he listened to Gil's reply. "Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He disconnected the call and looked at Sorcha.

"What is it?"

Malcolm hesitated.

He hurt her enough by telling her about the pictures.

This, though?

Wasn't something he could avoid, either. He took a deep breath to steady his rapidly unraveling nerves.

"Edrisa found who the tongue belongs too."

"Who?"

The worry that leaked into her voice caused a tremor to rattle the bones of his hands. The bands around his head, his chest tightened until he couldn't draw a decent breath. He had to tell her, though. As painful as it'd be, he had to tell her.

"Her name was Ling Xi Pho." Her soft gasp hit him harder than a fist to the jaw. It confirmed his suspicion, however. "You knew her."

"She lived in my building," she whispered in a voice made thick by pain. "The apartment below mine, in fact."

"Stay here," he told her as he rose to his feet. "I'm—"

"—going with you."

"Sorch, no. It's too—"

"I'm going, Mal." She stood, slim and straight. Sorrow burned in her eyes, but behind it lived a firm resolve. "And that's final."

He gave in.

What choice did he have?

Sorcha wasn't going to listen to anything he said.

He ignored the little voice reminding him about how he didn't listen any of the times Gil told him to stay back. That was semantics at this point. Irrelevant to the situation.

"We'll have Adolpho drive us to the precinct." Thankfully, he could avoid having to talk with his mother about using her driver. "And I won't take no for an answer."

"Can't say no, anyway." Sorcha followed him from the room. "Not when Gil has my car."


	8. Chapter 8

"Bright..." Gil leaned back in his office chair with a sigh. "What part of Sorcha remaining at your mother's for her protection was somehow unclear?"

Bright paced from his office door to the window, his movements agitated, jerky, vibrating with the nervous energy the kid barely contained on a good day. Watching him exhausted Gil. However, there was nothing he could do. The kid had to burn himself out.

Gil hoped it'd be soon.

"Sorcha insisted on coming with me," Bright said as he turned to head back the other way. "She made it clear she wanted to see her friend's body for herself."

An idea Gil was against.

"Telling her no didn't occur to you?"

Bright sent him a look over his shoulder that said he had but it got rejected. Gil's lips twitched but he managed to keep from smiling.

"I told her that seeing her friend on that table wouldn't do her any good. She disagreed."

"You could have enlisted your mother's help in convincing her to stay home."

"I decided it wasn't worth the argument." Frustration and anxiety rolled off Bright in waves. "Especially since she wouldn't have listened and come here on her own, anyway."

Gil told himself he really shouldn't find such amusement in the kid's agitated state. Not when they had a killer on the loose who was hellbent on making him and Sorcha pay for some perceived wrong they committed against Robert Harwood.

As if the man was some innocent victim.

The man gave John Watkins and Martin Whitly a run for their money. His total number of kills placed him behind the twenty-three of The Surgeon but tied him at nineteen with Watkins. _And those are only the kills we know about. There could be even more bodies we haven't found_.

Same as with The Surgeon.

"So, she'd have pulled a you." Bright frowned, not appreciating Dani's reminder about his inability to follow orders. "Imagine that."

"Yes, she'd have pulled a me." He stopped to watch Sorcha laugh at something the officer Gil tasked to keep an eye on her said. "That's why I decided it wasn't worth the argument."

Gil couldn't deny the tingle of satisfaction that shot through him at seeing the kid get a taste of what dealing with him on a daily basis was like.

Nor could he deny a small part of him, a dark part he didn't indulge in too often, thinking this fitting punishment for his yeeting out a window onto his car.

Granted, Sorcha and her brother, Sean, took the car to his repair facility to see if they could fix it, but it didn't relieve the kid of his responsibility for having been the one to crush it in the first place.

"And you couldn't have reasoned with her, kid?"

The look Bright gave him in the reflection of the glass was one of a man irritated with a woman but not knowing what to do about it. Gil ducked his head to hide the smile he couldn't stop from creeping across his face.

_About_ _time you learn what swimming in these waters is like, kid_ , he told him silently as Bright released another agitated breath.

It was a lesson long overdue in Gil's opinion.

Part of that blame he placed on the shoulders of the woman sitting in the small cubicle Bright used to work on profiles and paperwork from.

Sorcha failed to take his, Jackie's, and even her own parents advice about not making things easy for Bright. They all cautioned her against putting his needs and problems ahead of her own. Told her she needed to confront him about things he did wrong and make him deal with the consequences of his actions.

She had refused, believing that giving the kid love and understanding was the best way to cope with his issues.

It created a pattern that became comfortable, familiar.

Sorcha changed that with their recent breakup. She didn't hide her hurt or anger from him this time. She placed her feelings out there for him to see. Told him he needed to deal with the repercussions of his actions. She didn't absolve him of his involvement in the situation.

She also created boundaries. Told Bright she wouldn't be his fallback option. _She didn't go back to him after Eve broke it off with him. Not as she has done all the other times he's pulled this stunt_.

Bright didn't know how to deal with this Sorcha. He never had to navigate this side of their relationship. Saying sorry wasn't good enough. He'd actually have to put in effort to repair the hurt he caused with his actions.

Gil found himself hoping the kid would figure out what he needed to do to make things right with Sorcha.

_If not, he will lose her_.

Forever, this time.

_And that_ , he decided as Bright raked his hands through his hair, _could push him into a complete psychotic breakdown._

"Sorcha doesn't want to be reasoned with," Bright said. "Not at the moment."

"This killer has made it personal," Dani offered quietly from her seat on his couch. "They've targeted her therapist, someone who lived in her building, and sent private photographs to you here at the precinct in an effort to hurt you both."

The case tipped the scale on personal when those photographs were delivered to the kid. It went beyond a simple invasion of privacy for Gil. Bright had enough issues with trust thanks to everything he endured at the hands of his father and John Watkins.

He could count the number of places where the kid felt completely safe on one hand. Having one of those places attacked would only exacerbate his trust issues and make them worse.

Complicating things further was the fact Bright didn't have a chance to protect either himself or Sorcha from this intrusion of their home, their lives. Whoever took those photographs chose to go after them when they were at their most vulnerable.

That invasion of his home, his life had the kid on edge.

And that was dangerous.

Bright tended to make bad decisions when he was in this frame of mind.

_More than bad decisions,_ Gil realized as Bright stood at the window watching Sorcha. He tended to do things that were downright suicidal. Such as follow a potential serial killer into an abandoned service tunnel, chase after same said serial killer after said serial killer slashed the throat of the former detective who aided the kid in hunting him down, and get himself kidnapped by said serial killer.

He couldn't let the kid do that this time.

If it required him putting a leash on Bright to keep him from doing any of the insane things he did when working a case, he would.

"We still don't know who that eyeball belongs too," Dani said. "It could belong to anyone at this point."

Bright resumed pacing, face twisted in that way that said he was trying to put the pieces together but was coming up short. Gil suspected the reason for the kid's struggle in putting this together was because he was directly involved in the case. If this was just about Sorcha, he'd have figured out who it was hours ago.

And that, Gil suspected, bothered the kid most of all. He couldn't figure out who the next target might be or what the killer could do next. Meticulous, he called them earlier. Methodical in their movements. Making every move count.

Making them all the more dangerous because of it.

Frustration pulsed beneath Gil's skin, sizzled in his blood. Whoever this killer was, they were threatening his kids. Attacking them in ways he couldn't do anything about.

Not until they figured out who they were.

Once they had a physical address and a name to go with it?

He'd personally slap the cuffs on them.

"Has Sorcha checked on her family?"

"Yes." Bright walked over to stare out the window. As if the answer for who was doing this was waiting on the street below. "Her uncle Hoyt is there now and called in local police to help with protecting her mom, Sean, and the others should the killer decide to target them next."

"Lieutenant Brannigan also made some of his detectives available to help with tracking down leads," Gil informed them. "I have them checking out Doctor Greene's home and Ling Xi Pho's apartment."

"What about Doctor Greene's office?" Dani leaned forward, lips pursed. "Do you want me and JT to go check it out?"

"His receptionist agreed to meet us there in an hour."

"We just got a body to match to that eyeball," JT announced as he entered the office. "And you won't believe who it is."

"Dylan Harwood."

JT's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at Bright's answer.

"How'd you know?"

A faint smile creased the kid's lips as he turned away from the window.

"I started to suspect it after Sorcha called Mandy to find out when his next shift was scheduled."

"He worked with her sister-in-law?" JT shook his head. "Nope, not even surprised."

"Did her sister-in-law say when he was supposed to be on shift?" Dani asked. "That will help with the timeline."

"He was in California all last week for a convention," Bright told her. "Scheduled to return Sunday morning since he was supposed to perform an appendectomy on Monday but didn't show up."

"Fits with preliminary time of death," JT said. "Edrisa figures he was killed somewhere late Sunday evening or early Monday morning."

"Doesn't mean he wasn't involved in the other killings, though," Dani pointed out. "Pho was killed Sunday morning. Depending when he got back, he could still have done it."

"No." Bright shook his head. "Sorcha is adamant Dylan Harwood had nothing to do with her murder."

"Yeah, look, man, your girl's normally spot-on in her assessments but she's under a lot of pressure right now..."

"You think?" Instantly contrite, Bright held out a hand toward JT, face anguished. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Forget it, bro."

"No, I—"

"If someone did to me and Tally what they've done to you and Bright-Light?" JT offered him the file he had brought with him from downstairs. The best sort of peace offering with Bright. "I'd be doing a lot worse than biting off a few heads."

A small smile graced Bright's lips before he flipped open the file. His brow instantly furrowed.

"I think we should check out Doctor Greene's office."

"Why?"

"I think whoever is doing this could have been a patient of his."

"Explains how they were able to grab him." JT leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "What're we going to do with Bright-Light, though?"

Gil glanced out his office window to where Sorcha sat.

Where she should be sitting, anyway.

Because she was clearly _not_ sitting there.

"This family." He wiped a hand over his face. "Can never do what I tell them."

"She's gone to the morgue." Bright was already heading for the door. "I'll catch up with her."

"And bring her with you," Gil called after him. "I don't trust she'll go back to your mother's on her own."

"You're bringing Sorcha with us?" Surprise coated Dani's voice, her face. "Why?"

"Because it's the only way I can keep an eye on the two of them."

JT grunted as he watched Bright make a beeline out the bullpen.

"I'd have Bright's mom come and sit on them."

Gil considered JT's suggestion. "That's not a bad idea, actually." He reached for his phone. "In fact, it's a great idea." He pulled up Jessica's name and hit dial. "Jessica? I need another favor."


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't often Edrisa found herself identifying with a victim. It was something most people in her line of work tended to avoid because of the heavy emotional toll it could take on them personally.

This one, though?

This one she did.

It wasn't the fact they were both female, in their mid-30s, and each of Asian descent.

It wasn't even because they lived in the same neighborhood and drove the same roads to work, the gym, and even their local shopping marts.

No, it was mostly because they had been latchkey kids growing up. Parents busy working long hours to provide them a good life, no older siblings or family to look after them once they got home, and a lot of responsibilities and expectations placed on them because they were the only child.

"This shouldn't have happened to you," she whispered to the woman laying there, serene in death, even though her final moments had been anything but. "You didn't deserve this happening to you. Nobody deserves this happening to them."

No, Ling Xi Pho didn't deserve to have her tongue removed from her mouth. No more than Dylan Harwood did his eyeball or Doctor Greene his thumb.

"Doctor Tanaka?"

Edrisa's head whipped up at the sound of her name. Surprise at who stood in the doorway caused her thoughts to jumble.

"Miss Corbin!" She flinched as her yelp bounced around the room. "Sorry." She pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. Did her best to regain her composure. "Uh, what can I do for you?"

Miss Corbin stepped farther into the room. She moved with an almost ethereal grace. As if she was water gently flowing down a stream. Edrisa found herself a bit envious of Miss Corbin. Even with her hair in a messy bun, no makeup or jewelry, eyes swollen from crying, and wearing a washed out pair of jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt she suspected belonged to Mr. Bright, she still radiated polish and sophistication.

Sorcha Corbin was everything she was not. However, Edrisa didn't feel awkward or clumsy around her. She supposed it was because Miss Corbin saw her as an equal and not just some odd duck who performed autopsies and spouted obscure facts at inappropriate times.

She treated her as a person… a friend.

Something Edrisa had too few of.

"I wanted to come and see for myself it was Ling." Red-rimmed eyes lifted to hers. "I wanted to know for sure she's one of the victims."

Edrisa cleared her throat as she moved away from the table.

"You, uh, knew her?"

"Yes, I did." Questions raced through Edrisa's mind but she refrained from asking any of them. Now wasn't the time and over Ling Xi Pho's body not the place for her to ask them. "Ling moved into the building about three years ago with her girlfriend." Miss Corbin folded her arms around herself and blew out a breath heavy with guilt, grief, and regret. None of which Edrisa believed were hers to carry. It wasn't her fault that this killer chose these people. "Sunny was deployed last month with one of our other friends. We started jogging together to help each other cope with our anxiety and depression."

"Oh." Edrisa didn't know what to say. She wasn't any good in these situations. It was why she decided to go into pathology. She didn't have to deal with the living down here. Outside of the detectives and the rest of her staff. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Grief trembled in those simple words. Were carved into Miss Corbin's ashen face. She looked down at Ling Xi Pho. "Can you do me a favor, Doctor Tanaka?"

Edrisa blinked her eyes wide, surprised someone like Miss Corbin would need a favor from _her_ when she had Mr. Bright she could rely on.

"Of course, Miss Corbin, anything," she said quickly. "What is it?"

"Will you notify me when you're ready to release her body? Ling's parents died in Tower 1 during the 9/11 attacks and she has no other family. I'll handle her funeral arrangements." Her eyes strayed to the body laid out on the other table. "And his."

Edrisa had forgotten all about her connection to Dylan Harwood. Her therapist, her friend, and the brother of her ex-boyfriend.

Who also was a serial killer.

Pity stirred in her breast. Miss Corbin had been put through the wringer by whoever killed Ling Xi Pho, Dylan Harwood, and she suspected, Doctor Greene.

"I will let Mr. Bright know when I am ready to release their bodies."

"Thank you." Miss Corbin blew out another breath and stepped back. "I also need your promise that you will help Malcolm figure out who killed Ling and Dylan. They deserve justice and I intend to see they get it."

It wasn't like Miss Corbin even had to ask her help in that. She was fully committed to doing what it took to find who the killer was so they could be stopped.

"We will... or, _he_ will," Edrisa corrected with a nervous little laugh. "Mr. Bright will figure out who is doing this and stop them."

There was no doubt in her mind about that.

"Sorch."

Miss Corbin turned as Edrisa spotted Mr. Bright hovering in the doorway. The anguish on his face sliced thin pieces from her heart. She had never seen Mr. Bright so unguarded before. He tended to keep his emotions in check whenever she was around. Focused on the case and on figuring out how victims died and why.

It was clear to her how much the two cared _for_ each other and _about_ each other. Her romantic heart beat at seeing such genuine love between two people. Miss Corbin let out a small sigh as she looked at Mr. Bright.

"You heard it was Dylan the eye belonged too?"

Mr. Bright came forward to draw Miss Corbin into his arms. Edrisa longed to know what being held by him was like but not because of a situation like this.

"I'm sorry," he said into her hair. "Sorch…"

"Just find them, Mal," Miss Corbin whispered. "Find them and stop them like you stopped Robert."

"I will." His hand cupped the back of her head. "I promise."

It was a promise Edrisa knew he'd go to the ends of the Earth to keep.

...

Jessica was waiting outside Doctor Greene's office when they arrived. She hadn't been thrilled at being requested to come and pick up Sorcha from a potential crime scene but she acquiesced once he explained his reasoning. Not that Bright agreed with his reason or his enlisting his mother's aide.

"Seriously, Gil?"

"I didn't have a choice, Bright." Gil parked behind the black town-car. "I can't babysit the two of you," he said as he shut off the car engine, "and investigate this case."

"We don't need babysitting," Bright huffed. "We need to figure out who is doing this and stop them."

"I agree." Gil waved a hand towards the car in front of them. "That's why I called your mother and asked her to send Adolpho to pick up Sorcha."

"But..."

"He's right, Mal." Sorcha lifted her head from where it had been resting on the kid's shoulder and thumbed away the moisture under her eyes. "You need to focus on the case and I'm not clearheaded enough to provide any sort of help."

"Sorch—"

"People are dying." Her eyes met Gil's in the rear view mirror. "We have to find who is doing this before they go after someone else."

"I know we do." The kid's brow furrowed. "But you know Doctor Greene's office. You've been here. You'd recognize if anything looked out of place or unusual."

"Angie will know. She's been his receptionist for twenty years."

"Is that her by the door?" Gil indicated the white-haired woman standing by the entrance to the building.

"That's her."

Gil opened the car door and stepped out as JT and Dani walked over. "You two interview the receptionist," he said as Bright and Sorcha scrambled out from the backseat. "Bright and I will check out Doctor Greene's office."

"Want us to walk Light-Bright over to Mrs. Whitly's car?" Unholy amusement shone on JT's face. "Make sure she actually gets in and leaves?"

"You've never dealt with my mother when she's determined about something." Bright's little exasperated sound almost made Gil smile. "No amount of arguing will sway her."

"Something you have in common," Sorcha pointed out. "Dealt with the Whitly obstinacy more than once."

A faint smile crept over Bright's face. "I can be reasoned with."

"Like hell," JT and Sorcha muttered in unison.

Bright merely rolled his eyes and guided her towards his mother's car. "I'm not unreasonable."

"Just a danger prone idiot."

"Am not."

"Watkins?"

Bright made a face. "That was a mistake, I admit it."

More than a mistake in Gil's opinion but he refrained from commenting.

"And agreeing to electric shock therapy without discussing it with anyone beforehand?"

"I had no choice!" he protested. "I was trying to solve a case!"

"Yeeting out a window to avoid being blown up by the bomb a killer set and crushing Gil's car?"

"I didn't exactly have a choice there..."

"You were the one who tripped the bomb," JT pointed out much to Bright's consternation. "Remember?"

Taking twenty years of Gil's life with it. Standing outside the building, staring up at the floor where they left Bright, not knowing what exactly he had planned had been the longest moments of his life. He lost a few more years when the kid came shooting out the window, no safety net in place, and flames bursting out behind him.

"Wasn't something I did on purpose, I promise."

"You never do stuff on purpose." JT lumbered towards the woman waiting patiently by the front door. "Things just tend to sort of happen when you're around. Hence why you're a danger prone dumb ass."

Bright looked about to protest further but Jessica chose that moment to roll down her window.

"Can we hurry this along, dear? I have a meeting in half an hour with some people wanting money to build a youth center."

"Jessica, I appreciate this," Gil said as he placed a hand on the car and bent to converse with her. "I wouldn't have asked for your help if it wasn't important."

"Gil, this monster has invaded my son's private life, humiliated him at the place he works, and threatened both him and Sorcha with harm." Her lips compressed into a thin, hard line. "I want you to do whatever it takes to stop them."

"I will," he promised as Bright helped Sorcha into the car. "I will."

...

Their teeth ground together at the familiar hand The Infidel rest on The Woman's back.

At the smile she gave him.

How he rest his forehead to hers and whispered things — _intimate and private things_ , they assumed — to her.

An insult.

That's what this was.

An insult.

To them.

To Master.

Flaunting their indecency for all and sundry to see.

They'd teach them.

Oh, yes, they'd make them pay for their insolence.

As The Infidel helped The Woman into the back of the car that belonged to The Mother they plotted.

And they planned.

Snatching The Meddler was no longer the viable option they imagined it would be when they initially decided on this path.

Not with The Interlopers close enough to stop them before they got him away from the scene.

They needed to adapt.

If kidnapping was no longer the acceptable course?

Well, they'd just kill The Meddler, instead.

They cackled once before disappearing into the alley. They couldn't afford The Interlopers talking to The Harpy spotting them.

Not when they had things to do and Meddlers to kill.


	10. Chapter 10

Jessica hadn't been thrilled after Gil called her to virtually lasso her into meeting him at what she suspected was a potential crime scene. One look at the face of the woman seated quietly beside her convinced her he had been right in asking her to come.

Sorcha didn't need to traipse around the office where the body of her therapist might well be found. She wasn't exactly thrilled her son was there and searching for this body. Not that he appreciated her concern or worry. He waved it and her away as he always did.

Jessica contented herself with the fact that Malcolm was trained in this line of work. It was what he had been doing during the ten years he spent working for the FBI. He was qualified to handle dead bodies.

Sorcha worked for a group providing therapy services to servicemen and women. She also consulted on cases for the NYPD occasionally. _Just not the cases her son tended to consult on_.

"Everything will be okay, dear," she said as Adolpho headed for home. "Malcolm will figure out who is doing this and put a stop to them."

"I know he will." Sorcha blew out a breath and looked down at the hands folded neatly in her lap. "Thank you for coming, Jessica. I really don't want to be alone right now. Not after learning that two of my friends..." Her voice broke but her face remained perfectly composed. "Not after learning that two of my friends were tortured and murdered just to get back at me and Malcolm."

It wasn't often Jessica found herself stunned into silence. Less often was either of her children admitting they needed or wanted her company. Sorcha Corbin wasn't like her children. She had grown up in a warm, loving, nurturing family. Her mother was a nurse and her father, Ian... well, he hadn't masqueraded as an FBI agent by day and serial killer at night.

Jessica never claimed she was a perfect parent.

Far from it.

She freely admitted, to herself, anyway, she climbed into the bottle after Martin's arrest. Pills and booze were how she coped with her husband being a monster, her son being an emotionally traumatized disaster, and her world turned completely upside down.

Her children suffered despite her being bound and determined to do everything she could to make their worlds safe and comfortable after Martin got locked away.

No, they didn't receive the nurturing and affection they should have gotten from her. That they had gotten while Martin pretended he was a loving father and husband.

They'd gotten everything money could buy them, though. Best schools. Private music, dance, horseback, and martial arts lessons. Anything they wanted she got them.

Money was no substitute for love and affection, however.

Money didn't get Malcolm to call her when he was homesick.

Money didn't have Ainsley reach out to her after her breakup with Jinn.

Money couldn't buy everything.

It couldn't fix every problem.

Or take away the pain and humiliation her son and the girl who stood by him all these years were being required to endure.

A girl she only now realized was much more than a friend to Malcolm.

She interfered in their relationship by continually pushing Eve at Malcolm. _And look how well that turned out._

Fury still filled her at the way Eve insinuated herself into their family. Used her and Malcolm to obtain the information she wanted about her sister. How she walked out on Malcolm soon as she got what she wanted, breaking his heart, and almost sending him spiraling down a dark and dangerous path.

_Their relationship is one mistake I can fix_ , she realized as Adolpho pulled up in front of her house.

"Thank you, Adolpho," she said as he opened her door for her. "I may need your help with a little matter later."

"Of course, Mrs. Whitly."

Jessica glanced over to see Sorcha had already exited the car and was heading up the walk to the front door. Her heart ached at how slow, halting those movements were.

Like those of someone simply going through the motions.

She remembered that fog-bank all too well.

Booze and pills had been her solution because the man who should have been there to comfort and take care of her had been the cause of her misery.

Malcolm wasn't his father.

_Thankfully_.

However, her son could be completely clueless when it came to things like this.

So, she'd help stir the pot a little.

Steer the two in the right direction.

Because if there was one thing Jessica Whitly was confident about?

It was a little nudging was all that was needed.

Firm in her resolve, Jessica followed Sorcha into the house, already making plans in her head for how to go about accomplishing her goal.

…

Doctor Greene's office was on the bottom floor of the building. After a day that started with a call out to Sorcha's apartment for a severed thumb that turned up three bodies, Gil looked forward to a bit calmer investigation.

He allowed his gaze to slowly sweep the reception area, searching for anything that seemed out of place. Nothing immediate leapt out at him.

Glossy floors, armchairs upholstered in a rich shade of navy, and tables gleaming beneath the soft light gave the room a comfortable sort of vibe. Magazines fanned out across the smooth oak surfaces. Silently inviting him to pick one and sink into one of the plush chairs to wait for his appointment.

Other magazines had been stacked in the stand against the back wall. Arranged, he saw with a spurt of amusement by size, type, and alphabet. _If I didn't know better I'd say Bright had been here_.

The pictures on the walls depicted various New York landmarks: the Statue of Liberty, Rockefeller Center, Empire State Building, Grand Central, Brooklyn Bridge, and Times Square.

The only thing that struck him as odd was the disinfectant that hung heavy on the stale air. His eyebrows knit as he re-scanned the room, searching for clues as to where the cleaning solution was used and why.

"Someone has done a thorough cleaning in here," Bright commented as he moved about the room. "And quite recently from the smell of it."

"Can't assume it means anything until it means something, kid."

Bright moved to the closed door that separated Doctor Greene's office from the reception area.

Gil's instincts, honed over his long years as a cop screamed at him as Bright placed a hand on the doorknob.

"Bright, wait!"

Too late.

The kid already turned the knob...

...

"When was Doctor Greene supposed to return from his trip?"

"His first appointment was this morning." Angie Matheson pursed her thin lips as she answered Dani's question. "That's why I was here all day yesterday getting the office ready."

"Did you notice anything out of place when you entered the building?"

"Other than he forgot to clean out the coffee pot? No."

"Was that unusual of him?"

"Detective, Ed was fanatical about cleaning that pot and having it ready for the next morning. He'd never forget to service it."

"Thank you," Dani said. "If we need anything else we will let you know."

"Just find out what happened to Ed." Tears sparkled in the light blue eyes that listed to hers. "His wife, Helen deserves to know what happened to him."

"We will." Dani walked away with JT. "What do you think?"

"This Tammy Lynn grabbed him."

"And likely during their appointment."

"We got his appointment log." JT held up a brown ledger. "Can run names and see if anything pops up."

"Let's go tell Gil and Bright—"

An explosion cut off the rest of what Dani was about to say.

...

Malcolm woke to find himself in a treacherous landscape of shattered glass and splintered wood, ears ringing, lungs violated by the thick smoke and dust clinging to the air, and drowning in a sea of confusion.

_What happened_?

His brow creased as he tried to recall what he had been doing right before everything went dark.

He and Gil had been talking about disinfectant.

He started walking towards the door that led to Doctor Greene's office.

Gil called out for him to wait.

Then... nothing.

A bomb.

Whoever their killer was had set a bomb.

The question was... _why_?

The blast had been intended for them. Of that there was no doubt.

They meant to cause he and Gil serious harm but not kill them.

Something about it, though, didn't make sense. Until now, the killer had chosen to act from afar. Taking people close to Sorcha and using them to make their threats.

This was more close and personal.

As if whoever set the bomb planned something else with it.

His belly cramped as a number of reasons rolled through his mind. Laying there wasn't going to solve this case. Malcolm went to push up onto his knees but pain throbbed in the fingers that got jammed beneath him when he got tossed back by the blast.

If none were broken would be a miracle.

Given his luck lately?

At least three would be.

"Gil?" he called, voice hoarse. "Gil, can you hear me?"

No answer.

Panic shot through Malcolm. Gil had been a few steps behind him when the bomb triggered. He couldn't be far. He swung his gaze around, wildly searching for a glimpse of him, but couldn't see anything through the smoke, dust, and debris.

Glass crunching on his right got him to flip around. He got a glimpse of flashing brown eyes and a face that might have been pretty once a split second before pain exploded across his face from where she caught him with a vicious backhand.

"Infidel!" A low, feminine voice hissed. "How dare you and The Woman shame Master!"

_Master_? His brow furrowed. _Who was this Master_?

Was it Robert Harwood? Was he Master?

Before he got a chance to ask, she hit him again, an openhanded slap that left him reeling.

"You will die." Her face twisted into a grotesque mask of anger and hate. "You and The Woman. You will both die."

"Why?" Her attention wasn't on him any longer, though. A frustrated snarl burst from her before she spun away. "Wait! Why do you want to kill us?"

"Bright! Bright, can you hear me!"

"Dani! Over here! The suspect..." _Was already exiting out the backdoor_ , he realized as a door slammed shut. "The alley! Dani, she's escaping through the alley!"

"On it!"

Malcolm went to push himself up to follow but white-hot pain shot from his hip down his leg. He collapsed with a soft hiss, heart hammering against his chest, and frustration trembling in his quaking fingers.

Last thing he needed at that moment was a dislocated hip.

JT would relish having to carry him out of the building and his mother?

Well, she'd take great delight in reminding him about why he needed to find himself a new career.

Neither was especially appealing.

Malcolm heaved a sigh as he waited for Dani to return.

...

Something laying on top of him was the first thing he became aware of when he regained consciousness. Gil coughed and tried to shove at whatever it was but the object refused to budge. He bit out a curse as he flopped back, staring through the hazy smoke, dust and other debris towards the ceiling.

A trap.

It had been a trap.

He should have anticipated it.

Expected it.

Planned for it.

Stupid of him to not consider the killer doing something like this before bringing his team to investigate. _Rookie mistakes like this are what get cops killed_.

"Gil?" Bright called from somewhere on his left. "Gil, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you, kid." He turned his head and could make out Bright laying on his side a few feet from him. "You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Bright, a tingle goes down my spine when you say those words."

"I'm functional," he groused. "That better?"

"Considering your functional is dysfunctional? Not really."

Bright crawled over to sit on his knees beside him. "I'm uninjured." He flashed him a lopsided grin. "That work better for you?"

Gil frowned at his cheekiness.

"You have a cut on your forehead and who knows what else."

"Minor injuries."

"Internal bleeding."

The kid rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one who has a table on top of me."

Ah, well, that explained the crushing weight he couldn't budge off of him.

And why his legs were tingly.

"What about JT and Dani?"

"They didn't get caught in the explosion." That was a relief. Not that his and Bright being caught in it was any better. "I'm sure they called in what happened before going after the woman I saw."

"At least they know to call in." His brow furrowed. "Woman? What woman?"

"There was a, uh, woman here." He frowned at Gil. "And I'm getting better at calling in."

"You just don't do what you're told after you call in."

"Ah, well..." He sent Gil another easy smile. "I'm a work-in-progress."

"That you are, kid," he agreed as sirens sounded in the distance. "That you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the promptmaster, Jameena for the prompt words lasso, homesick and lasso inspiring me to finish a needed scene for this chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

"By the time Dani and I got to the alley all we saw was a pair of taillights."

"Did you see what direction they were driving?"

"All I know is they took a left turn out of the alley."

"Checked the traffic cams," Dani said. "Picked them up leaving the alley but they disappeared after that."

"Cams went on the fritz around that time. Were down all over the city."

Frustration rolled off JT in waves. Gil's own pulsed beneath the bruises creeping black over his arms, legs and torso. Mingled with the pain from the small table landing on him after the bomb went off. He refused to go to the hospital, though. Wasn't hurt _that_ bad he told the EMTs and he had a case to solve.

Besides, his aches and pains could be fixed with a hot shower and a tumbler of whiskey. Nothing would bring back the three people dead. _And that is just the number of dead we know about_ , he realized as Bright took a careful seat on the couch. _There could be more for all we know_.

The thought didn't please Gil, any.

He glanced at JT.

"Were you able to get their license plate off the cam footage?"

"Running it now." JT glared at the computer so fiercely Gil expected it to spit out a name before tossing itself onto the floor. "Should have an answer any second."

"I saw a woman."

The kid gazed at him imploringly. Almost begging him to believe him. Gil had doubted the kid once when he told him he saw a woman. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. If Bright said there was a woman there then there was no doubt in Gil's mind she was there.

" _Describe her_." This came from Sorcha on speakerphone. " _What did she look like_?"

"Long hair." Bright's brow furrowed as he tried to recall all the details. "Not brown or blonde. More..."

" _Dirty blonde_?"

"Yes. With purple at the ends."

" _Brown eyes? A small mole by the corner of her mouth?"_

"Yes…"

" _About my height and build? With a lip ring_?"

"Yes." The kid angled his head to look at the phone, one brow arched. "How did you know?"

" _Because that's Tammy Lynn McGervey._ "

"Tammy Lynn McGervey?" Dani's lips pursed. "We saw that name on Doctor Greene's appointment log."

"She was his last appointment before he was supposed to be heading to Philadelphia for his speaking engagement," JT confirmed with a soft grunt. "Musta used his keys to get in there to leave that bomb in his office."

Anticipating they'd go there eventually to investigate. _And we walked right into her trap_. Gil's fist clenched the armrest of his chair. If the bomb had been set right behind the door, he and the kid wouldn't be sitting there.

Gil didn't know if luck had been on their side or an overworked guardian angel. All he knew was they were still alive.

" _It wouldn't surprise me if Robert had Tammy Lynn as his helper_."

"Why?" Dani asked. "Has she helped him before?"

" _I always had a feeling Tammy Lynn was involved in Robert's activities but couldn't prove it_."

"Why not?" Bright's head cocked to the side. "Wasn't there any evidence to link her to his murders?"

" _No_." A sigh. " _Everything came back to Robert_."

"Meaning he protected her."

" _Not a surprise if he was. She always did whatever he asked of her. She followed him around like a lost puppy_."

"She's not on his visitor log." Dani rest her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward, brow creased. "Not unless she's using another name to see him under."

A small _hmm_ came through the speaker. Gil could imagine Sorcha sitting in the middle of her bed at the Whitly home, legs folded beneath her, and staring at the wall with the same contemplative look currently on Bright's face. _Two peas, one pod_ , he mused, lips quirking.

" _Try her mother's name, Dorothy_."

"Bright-Lite scores a win." JT folded his arms across his chest and glanced first at Gil and then Dani and Bright. "There's a Dorothy Lynn on the visitor log. Visited him five times in the last week and ten the week before."

" _I'll bet you it was Tammy Lynn_."

Gil silently agreed with her. So did the kid if the look on his face was any indication.

"How can you be sure it was Tammy Lynn?" Dani questioned with a frown. "It could be anyone at this point."

" _It could be, you're absolutely right_ ," Sorcha agreed. " _However, Tammy Lynn used her mother's name on a credit card application a few months before Robert's arrest so I feel confident in saying it's her who visited him_."

"Fraudulent card application and identity theft." JT grabbed his coffee mug off Gil's desk. "Should be something in the system."

" _I recall she was also busted in 2016, 17, and 18 for assault. Once on her boyfriend and twice for random people she attacked at the club_."

"Assault often is the precursor to murder." Bright heaved a small sigh. "Especially in domestic situations where the violence typically escalates to murder."

" _We also have a manipulative force feeding into a grand ideation_ ," Sorcha added. " _Robert is definitely the igniter here_."

"Classic Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome."

" _Only Bonnie has become a killer to please Clyde_."

"Wonderful." Dani looked at Gil. "Want me and JT to try and track down an address?"

" _Tammy Lynn got evicted from her apartment after Robert was arrested_."

"Why?" Gil swallowed a curse as pain shot from his hip down to his ankle. What he wouldn't give for a shot of the whiskey in his desk drawer. He was way to old for bombs behind closed office doors. "Were they living together?"

" _She moved into Robert's old apartment after she got bounced from the place she had with her ex-boyfriend_."

"What about his brother, Dylan?" Dani asked. "Would he co-sign a lease for her?"

" _No_. _Dylan knew she wouldn't pay the rent_."

"Sounds like he had her number," JT said.

_"He did,"_ Sorcha confirmed. _"He thought Tammy Lynn was trouble and kept telling Robert to get rid of her."_

"Motive for murder." Bright looked at Gil. "Making sure he couldn't contact Sorcha and warn her."

"I'll still run his name and see if anything comes up." JT shoved out of his chair. "If she stole her mom's name and used it to open a credit card account, why not steal Harwood's to get herself an apartment?"

" _Also check to see if she isn't going by the name Harwood_."

"You think they got married?"

" _I can see Robert doing it to keep their conversations privileged_."

"Bundy married Carole Anne Boone as a way of showing the world how he couldn't be the monster they accused him of."

" _And Robert believes himself Bundy reborn_. _He'd absolutely marry Tammy Lynn to not only keep her believing that they will be together once he's found not guilty but to project the image of a man being falsely accused_."

"She kills Lite-Bright for him there won't be anyone to prove otherwise."

Bright's face paled at JT's words. However, Gil couldn't scold him for them. Not when they rang with a truth that none of them could deny.

"We'll check it out. Thanks, kiddo."

" _Do you think you can send the danger prone idiot home now that you have a possible suspect_?"

Gil heard the soft pleading note tinging Sorcha's tone same as Dani and JT. They recognized it for what it was: Sorcha needed to see for herself Bright was okay.

It was just the kid who didn't seem to pick up on her subtle request or silent need to see for herself he hadn't been badly harmed by the bomb.

"Gil, no—" he instantly protested but Gil cut him off.

"I think it's safe to send Bright home now that we have a suspect." He steeled himself against Bright's pleading gaze. "I only kept him here this long because I figured it was less paperwork for me."

" _You realize this is the man who followed a dangerous killer into an abandoned service tunnel without first calling it in_. _The same one who opted to sign himself up with a cult and receive electric shock therapy without talking about it with any of us_."

Bright shot the phone a disgruntled glare. "You're not helping here."

" _I'm not enabling your bad habits anymore, Mal."_

"Sorch—"

_"We all know that the second none of us are looking that you'll go after Tammy Lynn_."

"Busted, bro," came from JT, smirking.

"Knows you well," Dani added.

" _That's_ _why I feel no remorse in also saying he hasn't eaten more than a few licorice whips since the day before yesterday nor likely slept more than an hour in the last thirty-six_."

"Hour more than I normally get."

Sorcha didn't appreciate his cheek anymore than Gil did. Only, she couldn't scowl at the kid like he could. Bright ducked his head, somewhat sheepish, but nowhere near ready to concede the battle.

" _You also told your mother you'd be home for dinner_."

"I'm sure she'll be fine with me missing dinner given everything that's going on."

" _I'm sorry, are we talking about your mother? Because we can't be if you seriously believe that_."

"I'll put him in a cab myself," Gil assured her as Bright shot him accusatory looks. "And make sure a unit follows the cab to Jessica's."

" _I'll tell Jessica to expect him on time then_."

Bright disconnected the call and instantly opened his mouth to issue a protest but Gil cut him off before he could get started.

"Nope."

"But—"

"Kid." That promise he made about not meddling in the kid's relationship went out the window the second Sorcha made her request. Bright needed to learn, however. And the only way he would was if someone gave him the information he lacked. "You need to learn how to listen and hear what it is that Sorcha is saying."

"But." A puzzled frown creased the kid's brow. "I heard everything she just said. I was here for the whole conversation."

"You didn't pick up on her tone, Bright." Dani exchanged a look with JT when the kid stared blankly at her. "You try and explain it to him. You seem to have better luck at it."

"Explain what?" Bright glanced at all three of them. "What did I miss?"

"You missed your girl asking you to come home because she's scared as hell right now and needs your dumbass to come comfort her." JT angled his head to stare at Bright. "She used you not eating and sleeping as a pretext to get Gil to force your skinny ass to go home."

"Why didn't she just ask me to come home?" Bright sent him one long, frustrated stare. "Why did she have to make a game of it?"

"Maybe 'cause she doesn't think you would go home if she asked you too."

A plethora of emotions raced across Bright's face as he sat there. Hurt, guilt, sorrow. Gil knew how hard navigating relationships was for him. He wasn't sixteen anymore. He was a grown man with grown feelings involved with a grown woman who also had grown feelings. He had to learn how to handle adult relationships. Finally, Bright pushed to his feet and made for the door.

"Where you going, kid?"

"Home," was all Bright said as he exited his office.

"Holy… he actually got it," JT said. "His skinny ass actually got it."

"Owe me five bucks," Dani told him.

JT grumbled but fished a bill from his pocket.

"Told you Mini-Bright would crack first, though."

Gil sent them an amused look.

"You bet on which one would crack first?"

"No, we bet on if Bright would pick up on her subtle clue or if you'd have to send him home."

"Ah," was all Gil said.


	12. Chapter 12

Malcolm let himself into his mother's house exactly twenty minutes after getting off the phone with Sorcha. All he could think about the entire ride home was what JT said to him right before he left the precinct. How Sorcha didn't ask him to come home because she feared he'd refuse.

The whole ride he told himself it couldn't be true, JT had to have been mistaken, there was no way Sorcha could believe he wouldn't come home if she asked him too. As he entered the house, however, he found himself wondering if he was wrong.

Did Sorcha really believe he wouldn't come home if she asked him? His brow furrowed as he closed the front door behind him. _No_ , he decided with a slight shake of his head. _She can't think I would refuse to come home._

Not after everything that happened in the last twelve hours.

_You, uh, haven't exactly done so any of the other times she asked you to come home_ , he heard his father say from behind him. _Why should she think this time is going to be any different?_

Malcolm slowly turned, expecting to see his father standing at the other end of the foyer, dressed like always in his red sweater and tan trousers, with that warm smile peeking through his whiskers, and crinkling the flesh at the corner of his eyes.

He wasn't there.

_This time._

His father was never far, however. He was always lurking somewhere inside his head, waiting to break through the white noise to either offer him advice he didn't want or to remind him about things he didn't need reminding about.

This time, though, his father's words struck a direct hit.

Especially since they mixed with what Gil said about him needing to learn how to listen and hear what it was Sorcha said.

_How often haven't I come home when she asked me too?_

Malcolm pondered that as he shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it on the stand by the door. Was everyone right? Was the reason for why she hadn't asked him to come home because he hadn't any of the other times she asked him?

_Only one way to find out_ , he decided as he headed for the dining room.

"Mother? Sorcha?"

Movement in the living room caught his attention. Malcolm turned and found himself grabbed in a hard, desperate embrace. He didn't have to guess who it was that clutched at him so tightly. Sorcha's shape was as familiar to him as his own.

What wasn't normal was the way her breath shuddered out of her.

Or how her body quaked against his.

Or the way her nails dug into his back.

If she was anchoring him or herself, he couldn't tell, and that scared him more.

Especially since Sorcha wasn't the sort of woman who came apart at the seams. The only time he saw her fall apart had been after her father died. _Which_ , he admitted, was understandable given the situation. He had fallen apart at just the thought of his father dying.

"Sorcha?" He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head in his palm while lightly massaging her scalp. Same as she had done for him all these years. "What is it?"

It couldn't be that they found another body. Gil would have called him if that was the case. _Unless the body is here_ , he realized, a sliver of unease shooting through him. He raised his head and looked towards the living room. Where was his mother? Why hadn't she joined them?

One question broke through the white noise to torment him: Had Tammy Lynn snuck in while they were on the phone?

Bands formed around Malcolm's head, his chest at that thought. Tightened until he thought he would pass out from the pressure.

Malcolm started to push Sorcha away but she clung to him as tightly as the ivy that ran up the side of her parents house.

"Don't." Tears wet his throat, soaked into the collar of his shirt. Sent his panic skyrocketing. "Don't let go. Please. I just... Please, _please_ , just hold me."

She didn't have to ask twice.

Malcolm folded his arms around her and buried his nose into her hair. Instantly, that uniquely exotic scent, the one that was hers, and hers alone enveloped him in sinewy arms. Lured him down a path where memories waited for him.

The sort that chased away the dark things always laughing and jeering at him in the corners of his mind.

The kind that brought a smile to his face, caused his heart to beat a few extra beats, and his footsteps just a bit lighter.

Things he didn't need to dream about happening because they already happened.

Malcolm closed his eyes as those seductive arms lured him back.

Back to when life had been as close to perfect as it could get.

The candles he set on the lip of the bathtub cast shadowy figures on the walls. Steam scented with the lavender and jasmine oils he added to the water enveloped him in its comforting embrace.

The warmth of the water soothed away the myriad of aches and pains he tended to ignore.

He watched Sorcha lean her head back against his shoulder. Saw the smile that curved his lips before he turned his face into the crook of her neck.

" _When did you get two hearts tattooed behind your ear?"_

_"You've just now noticed I got a new tattoo_?" Sorcha hummed a laugh. " _Real observant, aren't you?"_

_"Been a bit, ah, busy lately."_

" _Yeah_ ," she drawled. " _Frying your brain and yeeting out windows_."

" _Not going to forgive me for those, are you_?"

_"I wasn't planning on it anytime soon._ " She turned her head to look at him, a twinkle in her eye, and a smile curving her lips that burned in his blood. " _But won ton soup from our favorite place, raspberry cheesecake gelato, and this candlelight bath are going a long way towards getting you forgiven._ "

He didn't tell her he got the idea from JT. Not that she didn't likely suspect he got help from someone. Romantic gestures not being his area of expertise, after all.

" _When did you get the hearts?"_

_"While you were in the hospital recuperating from what Watkins did."_

Of course, she'd get a tattoo to mark such an occasion. Same as she did other events and moments that significantly impacted their lives.

_"Any reason you got hearts?"_

_"Something your mother said to me."_ She traced her nail across the back of his hand. " _About how two hearts beating as one cannot be broken."_

She had been wrong, however.

Two hearts could be broken.

He broke them.

_And then Eve broke what was left when she got what she wanted from me._

"I almost lost you." Her lips skimmed his temple, his cheek, whispered across his in a way that comforted and stirred at the same time. "I almost lost you, Mal."

"I'm..." Malcolm stopped himself before he said the word _fine_. It wasn't true and not what she needed to hear at that moment. "You didn't lose me."

"Could have." Her forehead rest against his. "I could have lost you and Gil." Her tremor ran the length of both of their bodies. "I couldn't handle losing you. Either of you."

Malcolm went to assure her that she wasn't going to lose him or Gil but his phone buzzed, stopping him. He instantly reached into his pocket for it, assuming the caller was Gil, but Claremont Psychiatric splashed across the screen.

"Gil?"

"Ah..." He hedged. "No. It's not Gil. It's—"

"Your father." A tidal wave of emotions suffused Sorcha's face. Anger and hate prevalent among them. "Of course. Why wouldn't he call?"

Malcolm went to send it to voicemail but Sorcha took the phone before he could.

"Sorch..." He tried to take the phone back but she twisted out of his reach. "Don't."

" _Malcolm, my boy_!" he heard as she hit answer. " _I see_ —"

"I'm afraid it's not Malcolm you're talking too, Doctor Whitly." Every word was velvet steel. "You do remember who I am, right?"

There was a three second pause in which Malcolm forgot to breathe.

" _Sorcha_ ," his father breathed out in a tone that set off alarm bells inside him. " _Oh, is my son juggling two women? Well, good for him. Hopefully, he can manage it what with his job with the NYPD and_

_visiting me_."

"Oh, he won't be visiting you for much longer, Doctor Whitly. See, I made a promise to you. Do you remember it?"

" _If Malcolm stops visiting me, he knows what will happen_."

Malcolm's hand vibrated at the threat those words contained. He knew what would happen if he failed to visit as promised.

So did Sorcha.

"What? You'll tell the police he was the one to stab you?" Sorcha barked a laugh. "Go ahead. By the time I am done telling them about what you've done to Malcolm, how you groomed him from the time he was a child, the jury will take a knife and stab you."

" _I was a good father_." A hint of that underlying madness crept into his father's tone. " _I was a good father!"_

"No, Gil Arroyo is a good father. Ian Corbin was a good father. You're just the monster in the dark. And monsters, Doctor Whitly, don't get parental rights."

_"I want to talk to my son! Mal—_ "

"Sorry, but his phone is about to have an unfortunate accident."

_Unfortunate accident_ being her tossing it against the front door with enough force that the screen shattered. Malcolm looked at his mangled phone and then at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Feel better?"

"Much."

If throwing his phone helped Sorcha ground herself?

Well, he'd buy her ten.

…

The sound The First Vassal made after they slit him open brought a grin to their face, and a warm tingle to their heart.

They did so love when they gurgled and gasped.

Writhed and twisted.

The soft _glub glub_ sound the red elixir made as it drained into the buckets beneath The First Vassal sent a shiver down their spine.

It heightened their enjoyment.

Brought them immense satisfaction.

They'd use the beautiful red color to write a message to The Infidel.

To lure him out so they could finally grab him and bring him to the location Master had chosen for his and The Woman's punishment.

Entering The Infidel's domicile hadn't been part of their original plan but The Interlopers prevented them from grabbing The Meddler at the office of the First Vassal.

So, they adapted.

It made no difference.

They'd avenge Master in the end.

And then they'd be together.

Forever.

…

"Got anything?" Dani asked JT over the divide.

"Nope." JT blew out a breath. "You?"

"Nothing."

His chair creaked as he leaned back in it.

"Think Light-Bright was wrong about who this could be?"

Dani glanced up from her computer screen, brow creased, and lips pursed. "No," she said after a moments thought. "I think that Tammy Lynn has covered her tracks."

"Think she could be using another name?"

"It's possible." Her fingers flexed on the keyboard. Itching to type in a name and have it come up with the information she was looking for. "What one, though?"

"Try Bright-Lite's name."

Dani turned in her chair to stare at the divider wall.

"You think she's using Sorcha's name?"

The thought had occurred to her but she dismissed it because of how obvious it seemed.

"What's her middle name?"

"Erin." Prying into Sorcha's life had left a sour taste in her mouth but there hadn't been any choice. "Her full name's Sorcha Erin Brannigan-Corbin."

Dani heard keys clacking and shook her head. JT wasn't the sort who wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn't let people get close to him unless they earned his trust and respect. Bright and Sorcha managed to earn that and more.

A feat Dani found truly remarkable given how tense things had been between he and Bright in the beginning.

"Got an Erin Harwood that popped up."

"Seriously?"

"Renting a house not far from where Harwood had his club."

"That can't be a coincidence." Dani reached for a pen and her notepad. "Give me the address. I know someone who works in the 311. I'll call and see if I can get them to do a drive-by."

Before JT could, however, his phone rang.

"Tarmel." A heated curse pierced the air. "Where? Yeah, we'll be there." He shot up from his chair and looked at Dani. "Buddy of mine just called and said he's got something for us."

"Another body?"

"Just said it fits our case."

"Great." Dani grabbed her jacket from off the back off her chair. "You go tell Gil."

"Already on it."


	13. Chapter 13

Gil was zonked out but forced himself to finish the paperwork the higher-ups demanded he do before heading home for some deserved rest. _God forbid they have to wait until tomorrow morning to receive a full accounting of how I ended up trapped beneath a table_ , he silently groused as he finished typing up his part of the incident report.

"Hey, Boss?" JT spoke from the doorway. "Just got a call from a buddy of mine. Said he has something that fits our case."

"Another body?"

"He didn't say."

A frown creased Gil's forehead. "Why does he think it fits our case then?"

"Because he's investigating the disappearance of Evan Swift."

His eyebrows shot up at that.

"Harwood's attorney?"

JT gave a short, almost imperceptible nod.

"Wife reported him missing twenty minutes ago."

Not exactly good news, Gil admitted with a small sigh, but not the kind that automatically led to thinking the man was dead.

Not yet, anyway.

Given the killer they were dealing with, he'd say it was only a matter of time before he did.

"How long has he been missing?"

"Since Monday."

 _Three days ago_ , Gil realized, gut twisting.

"Why did his wife wait until now to report him missing?"

"She was in Jersey visiting family." JT leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "Returned home tonight to find their place ransacked and him missing."

Gil reached for his jacket as he stood, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. "You have an address?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

…

Malcolm allowed himself to slip into the huge, dark void beckoning him as he took a seat on the couch in his mother's living room.

Everything in his life was out of balance.

Nothing made sense.

Most of it because of a woman acting on the orders of Robert Harwood. A psychopathic killer who believed himself Bundy reborn.

 _Whore, bitch must die_.

Impassioned words of a fanatic.

Of someone who saw themselves as avenging someone wronged.

Bonnie and Clyde taken to deadly extremes.

Malcolm stared up at the ceiling, craving sleep because he needed it, but too busy trying to process everything that happened within the last twenty-four hours to go and get it.

Not that he could wrap his mind around all of it.

Who could?

One severed thumb left in Sorcha's mailbox led to two bodies and one heretic they were still trying to locate.

A woman who wanted him and Sorcha dead because she thought they betrayed Robert Harwood.

Not that he planned on letting that happen.

Well, to Sorcha, anyway.

His life didn't matter.

Never had.

Never would.

Long as Sorcha survived this ordeal was the only thing that mattered to him.

He should have died on that camping trip. Why he hadn't still remained a mystery. His father wouldn't tell him the truth if he asked him and he wasn't allowed anywhere near Watkins.

Not that he believed Watkins would give him any more of a straight answer than his father would.

"I know what you're thinking and the answer is forget about it."

Malcolm tilted his head so he could look at her.

"And what is it you think I'm thinking?"

"That your life doesn't matter." Sorcha folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him from the doorway. "Which is absolute bullshit."

How well Sorcha knew him galled him at times. _JT would say I'm getting my just desserts here with her profiling me as I profile everyone else_.

"You should apply to Quantico," he groused as he resumed staring at the ceiling. "They could use someone with your profiling skills."

"Profiling isn't how I know what you're thinking." He heard the smirk in her voice. "Almost fifteen years with you is."

"That I screwed up."

"Let's not talk about that tonight." Sorcha joined him on the couch. "Not when we have two bodies in the morgue, Ed's still missing, and no idea who Tammy Lynn might go after next."

She had a point. Like she always did. They did have more than enough on their plate to deal with. However, he couldn't force his mind to focus. Not when it was crowded with so much. Eve and her sister, his father and Nicholas Endicott, Tammy Lynn and Robert Harwood, his fractured relationship with Sorcha.

All swirling around inside the white noise that normally filled his head. Any minute Malcolm expected the top of his head to blow off from all the pressure gathered inside him.

He needed to clear his mind.

Organize his thoughts.

The best way to do that was to do the one thing he tended to not do: talk about what he was thinking and feeling.

"We can't avoid talking about us forever."

"No, we can't avoid talking about us forever," she agreed, tipping her head against his. "But it doesn't need to be tonight." Her hand curled around his shaking one. Silent comfort and support. "Let's just focus on getting each other through this nightmare. Okay?"

Malcolm wanted to agree.

He did.

He just couldn't.

"Why didn't you ask me to come home?"

Not when that question haunted him.

"Mal..." Sorcha sighed. "We—"

"Why?" That's what he needed her to help him understand. "Why didn't you ask me to come home?"

Sorcha didn't reply for several seconds. Finally, she sighed and said quietly, "Because I didn't think you would."

"Sorch..." He slid his trembling fingers between hers. Gripping tight to anchor himself in the present as much as to keep her from leaving him. "How could you think that I wouldn't have come home if you asked me?"

"Maybe because you've been so engrossed with work and Eve the last few weeks that you haven't had time for much of anything else. Least of all me."

No heat. No bitterness. Just a quiet truth that hurt worse than Watkins cracking him like a rack of lamb in that old turnstile.

"I'm sorry." Moisture gathered, was rejected. "I should have—"

"Stop." Soft but firm. "Not tonight, okay?"

Again, he wanted to agree.

He did.

He just couldn't.

"I'd have come home if you asked me too."

"Asking for what I need from you?" The eyes that met his reflected the very torment threatening to engulf him. "That's one of the things I was working on with Ed. Along with creating appropriate boundaries. Healthy distance. Telling you when you've been hurtful or neglectful. Not bottling my anger and hurt inside."

Each point a dagger stuck in a different part of his body.

Every one a reminder about how he was to blame for this.

If he had been there for her as she had been there for him…

"I'm—"

"— not the only one who carries the blame here," she finished for him. "I carry more than half of it here, Mal. I chose to do those things. I wanted to be there for you. To support you."

"I should have been there for you in return." And he wasn't. Not as he should have been. Work took precedence. Became an excuse. A reason to stay away. "Relationships are about giving and taking. Supporting one other through good times and bad. Encouraging each other."

"It's something we both need to work on going forward." Sorcha's soft sigh whispered through his hair. "Course, I need to find a new therapist, first…"

"Call Gabrielle," he suggested. "She can recommend someone."

"I called her after we got off the phone." Her lips quirked. "Made you an appointment for tomorrow morning."

He huffed softly. "I don't need—"

"Ten AM." Firm. "You need to see her, Mal. You've been avoiding it since you got out of the hospital."

"You made me see her while I was in the hospital."

"Because I knew you wouldn't go on your own." She squeezed his fingers. "You need to see her, Malcolm. Our private life got exposed today to people we think of as friends and family. There's your father. Finding out who the girl in the box is. And," she said with a sigh, "you need to talk about your breakup with Eve."

His breakup with Eve was the last thing he wanted to discuss with Gabrielle. Especially since she was the one who encouraged him to try being normal. _And look how well that's turned out._

"I should have stopped at my loft and gotten a few things."

He was changing the subject to avoid discussing Gabrielle. He knew it and Sorcha knew it. She didn't call him on it, though. Just squeezed his fingers in silent acknowledgment.

"Well, I have the emergency supply of your meds in my purse." Her eyes shimmered with mischief. "But this is the only other shirt of yours I grabbed before I left your loft, sorry."

He eyed the shirt with some amusement.

The soft blue one.

Her favorite.

Of course.

"Guessing I can't bribe you into giving it up?"

Interests added flecks of gold to her eyes.

"Depends on the bribe."

"Gelato and cannoli from _Polosud_?"

One eyebrow lifted.

"Really desperate for this shirt, eh?"

"I'd prefer not to sleep naked."

Her lips twitched. "See, now, I'm thinking to say no."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "You would."

Sorcha chuckled softly. "I have an idea you might find more agreeable."

"What?"

"Going to your loft and grabbing some things. We can also check on Sunshine."

He sent her an amused look.

"And get Chinese from that place you like, right?"

Her eyes blinked wide. "Would I be as conniving as that?"

"Yes, you would be."

"You do like their won ton soup."

"It doesn't make me sick."

One of the few things food-wise that didn't.

"See?" She teased as she pushed to her feet, held out her hand. "Win-win."

Malcolm found he couldn't disagree.

...

"Edrisa?" Confusion streaked through Gil at seeing the medical examiner. "What are you doing here?"

"I received a call about a box set atop the mantle."

"What's so important about a box on top of some mantle?" JT questioned, one brow arched. "Lots of people got boxes and things on their mantles."

"This, uhm, box has ashes in it."

Gil wiped a hand over his face. "Human ashes?"

"I won't know for sure until I get them back to the lab." Her face crinkled. "But I would say yes." She then pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. "It also has a, uh, human heart in it."

"Of course, it did," came from JT. "Why the hell wouldn't it?"

"Was there a note with the box?" Her pinched expression was the only confirmation Gil needed. "What did it say?"

"That they are going to carve out the heart of The Infidel before they're done."

A cold fury enveloped Gil. Threaten his kids?

No way.

Whoever this was would have to go through him, first.

"Powell, call Bright. Tell him I want him and Sorcha to stay put until further notice. JT, you had an address for Tammy Lynn?"

"Yeah, it's not far from here."

"Good." He turned to the door. "Let's go check it out."

…

"Gil would be upset if he knew we left my mother's."

A snort came from the woman who exited the Uber before him. "Gil would be more shocked by you actually doing what he said."

Malcolm swallowed a laugh as he followed her to his door. "You're probably right."

"Your mother will likely be more upset when she returns from her meeting to find us gone."

"She won't lecture you."

"No, she will just call my mother and have her do it."

"My mother calls your mother to lecture you?"

Sorcha sent him a dirty look. "It's not that amusing."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No," he said, mouth trembling, "I'm not."

"Open the door, funny man."

Malcolm pulled the key from his pocket as he stepped towards the door.

"Are you sure you're okay coming up with me?"

Sorcha blew out a breath and looked up at the building.

"It's not especially easy for me to come here, no," she admitted in a subdued voice. "I started thinking of this as home — _our_ home."

"It is still our—"

"Malcolm." She brought his gaze to hers with the use of his entire name. "You need to understand that you allowed another woman into what was my territory. You let Eve invade my space."

"I never meant—" Malcolm broke off, swore.

"Hurt me? I know you didn't. It's not in you to be intentionally cruel."

"I did hurt you, though."

"Yes, you did." Her fingers brushed his arm. "I'll heal in time, though. Same as you."

He doubted he'd ever heal from what he had done to her. How could he? He hurt the one person outside of Gil who always stood by him.

Believed in him when he didn't believe in himself.

Defended him when he wouldn't.

Loved him despite his being a broken mess.

"I'm sorry." The words throbbed with all the regret inside him. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." She brushed her hair out of her face. "Because I should have done what everyone told me to do instead of walking away."

Malcolm tilted his head, curious. "What did they say to do?"

"Fight for my place."

"You shouldn't have had to do that." He lowered his gaze to the concrete. "I should have made it clear what your place was."

He should have chosen her is what he should have done.

He knew it and Sorcha knew it.

"Malcolm, I accepted you for who and what you are back in school. All your awkwardness and uncertainties and idiosyncrasies. Your inability to read social cues or situations."

She sent an amused look at him. "Your deplorable relationship skills."

"Why?" It was the one thing he never managed to figure out. "Why did you stay? Others left. Why didn't you?"

"Because I thought you were worth staying for." Her fingers curved around his arm. "I still do."

"You don't trust me, though."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Malcolm inwardly cursed and waited for her to skewer him over eavesdropping on her conversation with Gil.

"You heard that?" Miserably embarrassed, all Malcolm could do was nod. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear what I said."

"You didn't know I was there."

A shamed expression suffused her face.

"Probably wouldn't have stopped me."

"What?" His brow creased. "Why?"

"Because a really ugly side of me wanted to hurt you."

Malcolm reared back as if she slapped him.

"You _wanted_ to hurt me?"

"A part of me did." Tears sparkled on her lashes, leaked down her ashen cheeks. "It wanted you to feel a little of what I did. Let you bleed as I've bled."

 _Truth_ , Malcolm decided as he turned from her, _hurts worse than a lie_.

He couldn't fault Sorcha for how she felt, however.

"Let's go check on Sunshine."

She followed him into the stairwell without saying a word.

A coppery, metallic smell assaulted him before they reached the top of the stairs. _Blood_ , Malcolm realized as every sense went on high alert.

"Mal..."

"Call Gil and stay here."

"Let's try waiting for backup."

Malcolm had already pushed open the door, however.

He regretted it when a burning pain shot through the back of his shoulder.


	14. Chapter 14

Gil's phone rang as he exited Evan Swift's home. Expecting the caller was Bright, he answered with a clipped, "No."

The usual litany of Brightisms that'd greet his no didn't come, however.

Instead, he heard Sorcha shout the kid's name.

The reason for why she'd yelling Bright's name flooded into him, fast, and with an intensity that stole his breath. Nerves pulsed beneath his skin, trembled in the fingers that clutched his phone.

The killer — _Tammy Lynn_ — managed to get inside the Whitly home despite the detail he put outside.

"Sorcha?" he snapped. "Sorcha, where are you?" No answer came. Frustration hammered in his chest, mixed with the fear burning in his gut. "Sorcha, answer me!"

He heard what sounded like flesh meeting flesh followed by a soft moan that could only belong to the kid.

"Sorcha, where are you and Bright?"

" _Loft_!" Came through the speaker right before there was a sound, like that of a phone being dropped and skidding across hard flooring. He heard Bright scream in pain at the same time Sorcha growled, " _No_!"

"What is it?" Dani asked, concern vivid on her face. "Trouble?"

"We need to get Bright's loft," he said. "Now!"

"Can be there in twenty minutes." JT handed him the keys when he held out his hand. "Fifteen if we don't run into traffic."

"I'll make it there in ten," was all Gil said as he walked around the front of the SUV.

...

Malcolm's head screamed from where it thunked against the floor after he fell. White-hot agony licked at his arm, cruised across his chest. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what happened.

Stabbed.

He had been stabbed.

 _Again_.

He heard scuffling and rolled to his side, letting out a tiny moan as his arm and head protested the movement. He managed to get to his hands and knees but nausea and bright balls of light behind his eyes sent him curling back into a ball.

Sunshine's shrill chirping snapped him back to reality. He lifted his head in time to see Sorcha knocked back against the cupboards. She made a blind grab for a knife in the knife block but a petite woman — _Tammy Lynn,_ he realized — was quicker.

"Is this what you want?" She drew the long, jagged-edged blade free, turned it in the faint light so it gleamed wickedly. " Try and take it from me if you dare."

"Kill me." The words hardly made it past his lips. "Kill me!" he said again, this time with more force. "I'm the one to blame! Kill me!"

His words distracted Sorcha, allowing Tammy Lynn to rear back and smash the side of her face with a vicious backhanded slap. Sorcha careened into the back counter, striking her head against the edge of the thick wood, and slumping to the floor.

Tammy Lynn moved towards her, the knife gripped tightly in one hand, her face a mask of rage and hate. Malcolm forced himself up to his knees, determined to do whatever it took to stop her from killing Sorcha.

"The Master wants you to kill me first, doesn't he?" He ground out each word from between clenched teeth. "Then kill me. I deserve it."

Tammy Lynn stopped and slowly turned. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, Master wants The Woman to suffer by watching me cut the heart out of the chest of The Infidel."

"Do it then." He lifted his eyes to hers. "Cut my heart out."

A bold taunt.

A dangerous one.

One that would have Gil spitting mad at him for making.

He didn't care so long as it kept Tammy Lynn from hurting Sorcha.

"Oh, I will," Tammy Lynn promised as she came around the island towards him. "In good time."

"Do whatever you want to me." Tammy Lynn crouched in front of him. "Just let Sorcha go."

"Master was clear." She drew the edge of the knife down his cheek, his throat, his chest. "The Woman will suffer by watching as I cut the heart out of the chest of The Infidel."

"Robert Harwood is Master, isn't he?" _Talk quickly_ , he told himself as he stared into her wild blue eyes. _Buy enough time for Gil to get here_. "He convinced you to do this, said that you will be together if you kill me and her, right?"

"Master shall reward me by offering me the position The Woman rejected." The knife pierced the skin above his heart. Blood bubbled and oozed from the small hole, staining the front of his shirt. "Master will love me above all others for I will have given him what he wants."

There was a flurry of chirps before Sunshine left her hiding spot to fly at Tammy Lynn's face.

"Sunshine, no!" Bright yelled at the budgie. "Fly away!"

Not that Sunshine did. She beat at Tammy Lynn with her wings, yanked at her hair, and pecked at her ears.

"Abomination!" Tammy Lynn swung the knife at his wondrously fierce little bird. "I will carve out your heart and feed it to The Infidel before I am done!"

"No! Sunshine!"

Malcolm went to throw at himself at Tammy Lynn but Sorcha came from out of nowhere and jabbed a pair of scissors into her back before the woman had time to react. Her howl of rage filled Malcolm's ears.

"Run!" he told Sorcha. "Get out of here!"

"Remind me that when I'm not dealing with a deranged lunatic with a knife," Sorcha swore as she dodged Tammy Lynn's wild swing, "that I need to kick your ass for even suggesting that!"

"Just go!" he pleaded as Tammy Lynn snarled and slashed at her again. "Run!"

More shrill chirping sounded before Sunshine again swooped in, beating at Tammy Lynn with her wings, and yanking at her hair. Malcolm's heart dropped into his stomach at the danger his tiny bird placed herself in.

"Sunshine, fly away!"

Not that she listened any more than Sorcha to his pleas.

Malcolm could only watch, helpless as a newborn kitten as his bird continued to aide the woman he couldn't stand to lose as she fought the deranged monster loose in their home.

...

The throbbing in their back was less than what they imagined a failed blow from the blade of the guillotine would feel like.

They could have pushed through that pain.

They could have taught The Woman her rightful place.

The Abomination interfered, though.

It distracted them, blinded them, allowed The Woman to get to her feet and snatch hold of a weapon to strike them with.

Pain exploded in their back and they sunk to their knees, howling their rage and pain.

_Whore, bitch._

How dare she attack them!

They would make her pay. Her and the yellow abomination.

Master would tell them it was their fault. Their arrogance allowed them to get attacked. They hadn't thought The Woman had the daring, the strength to attack them.

Their mistake.

One they wouldn't make again.

They'd teach The Entitled a lesson they'd never forget.

They planted a hand on the floor and made to push themselves up but pain exploded across the back of their head.

Their world went bright.

Went dark.

…

There was no switch that turned off _Dad-mode_. At least, none Gil ever found. His Dad-mode kicked into high gear soon as his phone rang and he heard Bright scream.

Someone was threatening his kids.

Who?

A woman named Tammy Lynn McGerdy.

Why?

Because of a predatory psychopath who belonged in a cell next to Martin Whitly and John Watkins.

They were going to pay for what they had done to Bright and Sorcha.

It went beyond trying to ruin their reputations by delivering those photos to the precinct where all and sundry could see them.

It went beyond the taunts and threats.

It was the four people whose lives they took simply to punish two people for some perceived wrong.

The violation of privacy.

The breaking down of trust.

The shame and doubt.

His fingers clenched on the steering wheel and his foot pressed down on the gas. It was every whimper and plea, every shriek, every groan.

It was the fear that'd linger even after the person was found and locked away.

The pain that'd never go away.

Shrill chirping came through the speaker and he heard a howl that only increased his worry.

"I hope that bitch didn't go after Bright's parakeet," Dani said from the backseat.

"Gotta a feeling Bright-Lite just handled it."

" _Whore, bitch_!" Came through the speaker in a voice that Gil didn't recognize. " _You will pay for this! You and that Abomination_!"

Gil's teeth clenched and he took a turn sharper than he intended. He recovered quickly, years of experience keeping his moves controlled and his reactions sharp.

He heard a _clang_! and his heart stopped.

Was he too late?

Had...

" _Gil_?" Bright's shaky voice came through the speaker. " _Gil, are you still there_?"

"I'm here, kid." _I'll always be here_ , he told him silently. "You okay?"

" _Ah_..." the kid's breath whooshed through the speaker. " _I'm fine_."

He heard Sorcha in the background snap, " _Bullshit! You got stabbed_."

There was a sharp chirp. As if the little budgie that was the kid's only other friend in the world agreed with what Sorcha said.

" _I'm moderately fine, okay_?"

It wasn't, but with Bright? It'd have to suffice.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he told him. "Okay?"

" _Yeah, ah, you might want to call the paramedics_."

"JT already radioed it in, kid."

They tended to keep EMS on alert whenever Bright was involved in a case. Made things a lot easier in the long run.

" _Not for me. Well, okay, for me_ ," he amended as Sorcha uttered a few choice words. " _But also for, uh, Tammy Lynn_."

"Why do I need to call EMS for Tammy Lynn?"

His mind corrected that to _why_ should he call a bus for a woman with four dead bodies to her name as well as attempted murder?

" _Ah, well, a pair of scissors are stuck in her back and she probably has a concussion_."

Gil found himself wondering which one of them attacked Tammy Lynn. He put his money on Sorcha. When it came to protecting Bright, there was no length she wouldn't go, no extreme she wouldn't try, and no stopping until either she or the other person was down for the count. Still he couldn’t help but ask one question.

"From what?"

" _The, uh, frying pan she got hit with_."

Gil couldn't help the little smile that creased his lips. _Ian_ , he said silently as he made the turn onto Bright's block. _You'd be proud._

Cause he sure as hell was.

…

Sorcha dropped the skillet she used to crack Tammy Lynn in the skull and rushed over to the nightstand. Malcolm watched her with a mixture of awe and amusement.

"What're you looking for?"

"The handcuffs I bought you for a gag gift when you graduated Quantico."

Malcolm slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. "You're going to handcuff her?"

"Damn right, I am." She pulled the fuzzy purple cuffs out of the drawer and quickly returned to where Tammy Lynn still lay, unmoving. "Not taking a chance on her waking up and trying for another round of stabby stabby, thank you very much."

Fire shot across his chest and down his arm. He didn't need to look to know his shirt was soaked with blood. "Probably a good idea," he conceded as Sorcha clapped a cuff around one wrist and then around the leg of one of the chair at the island.

Once she was done, she came to crouch beside him.

"Let me see how bad it is."

"Just a flesh wound." His flippant comment earned him a scowl. "Okay, not as bad as what Watkins did, but still bad."

"Mhm." She unbuttoned his shirt and carefully peeled it back. Her soft hiss confirmed his suspicions. "Gonna need stitches."

Malcolm sighed. "Can't you call Mandy?"

"RJ's wedding."

"Right." Malcolm wrapped his good arm around her. Held her there as the adrenaline ebbed and the anxiety and pain returned. "Hospital it is then."

"I'll stay with you the whole time." She rest her forehead against his. "I promise."

Soft chirping sounded a second before Sunshine landed on Sorcha's arm.

"I've never seen her act like she did," Malcolm said as she ruffled and preened. "It was like she was trying to protecting us."

"She was protecting us." Sorcha stroked one wing with her finger. "She saw her humans were in danger and defended and protected us from the predator."

Sunshine chirped, almost as if in agreement. A small smile curved Malcom's lips. "She's pretty proud of herself."

"She should be."

Gil burst into the loft as Sunshine fluffed out her chest feathers, JT and Dani hot on his heels. They stopped short, gazes immediately going to the prone woman on the floor before moving to him and Sorcha.

"Damn," came from JT as he holstered his gun. "Light-Bright took care of business."

"Malcolm's to much of a gentleman to hit a woman." Sorcha sent a fulminating look at Tammy Lynn. "I have no such reservations and would happily do it again."

"Bright, you good?" Dani asked as she slowly approached where Tammy Lynn lay.

"If I say yes I might get a concussion to go with my shoulder injury."

Sorcha harrumphed as she rose to her feet.

"I still owe you an ass kicking for telling me to run."

"Bright told you to run?"

Malcolm didn't have to look at Gil to know there was a frown furrowing his brow.

"I didn't want her getting hurt!" He issued the protest as his shoulder throbbed. "I was trying to protect her!"

"Looks like your skinny ass covered getting hurt while she protected you."

"It's just a..."

"Say it's just a scratch," Sorcha growled threateningly. "I dare you."

"Ah, Gil?" Malcolm lifted his head to look beseechingly at Gil. "Hospital?"

"Wise choice, kid."


	15. Chapter 15

Jessica exited her bedroom the next morning at the same moment Sorcha walked out of Malcolm's. She didn't even bother to question why she was leaving her son's room instead of hers. That answer had become painfully obvious to her the day before.

 _How could I not have seen it before_? Jessica wondered as she closed her door behind her. The clues were always right in front of her. Staring her in the face.

She just refused to see them.

_I pushed Malcolm into dating Eve._

Eve, who didn't tell them the truth about her suspicions the moment she walked into the house.

Eve, who used her son to get close to her ex-husband so she could get the information she wanted about her sister.

Eve, who broke his heart not once, but twice.

 _Three times_ , she realized as she listened to Sorcha talk to that infernal bird her son insisted had to come here with them.

Eve broke her son's heart three times because she was the reason he and the girl he clearly loved were no longer together.

Because _she_ encouraged her son to pursue a relationship with Eve, thinking she was suitably acceptable socially, and perfect.

It was another in a long line of failures. Another mistake she made. Another grievance Malcolm would hold against her for the rest of her life.

This time she was determined to make things right.

To see things put back as they should be.

It wasn't only her son who deserved happiness and love.

It was also the girl who stood by him from the moment she met him.

The one who protected him from the woman who broke into his home and tried to cut his heart from his chest.

"Good morning, dear."

The eyes that turned to meet hers were huge, dark circles inside a face pale as fresh cream. The bruise on Sorcha's left cheek throbbed on her own. A maternal rage suffused Jessica. If she could get, she'd go down to central booking and shoot the woman responsible.

"Good morning, Jessica."

Jessica crossed the hall towards her. "Were you able to get any sleep?"

"Whenever I could convince my brain that Malcolm wasn't going to disappear the second I closed my eyes."

Jessica understood that feeling all too well.

It was how she felt since discovering what a monster her ex-husband was.

"Malcolm is here." Jessica stepped forward to rest her hands on those rounded shoulders. "And he's going to recover from his injuries."

"He wouldn't have gotten hurt if not for me." The eyes staring at her swam with torment. "All this is my fault. If I hadn't—"

"If you hadn't been the strong, capable woman you are," Jessica interjected, her tone firm, "Malcolm could have been hurt a lot worse than he was."

"He's suffered so much, Jessica." A tear ran down her face. "Watkins, learning the truth about Eve, her breaking up with him to search for her sister, his rotten bastard of a father playing his games with him."

A small smile curved Jessica's lips at the unmitigated hatred that replaced the misery on Sorcha's face. Martin had that effect on people. Those who knew him as a manipulative bastard, anyway. Most people found themselves lured in by his affable charm.

Herself included.

It was something she unfortunately shared with Sorcha. They both had found themselves attracted to charming and handsome men with an abhorrent dark side.

Only, Sorcha figured out what Robert Harwood was before making the mistake of marrying him and having children with him.

 _They'd have beautiful children_.

The thought crept unbidden into her mind. Jessica not-so-secretively hoped Malcolm would meet a woman. Get married. Have children.

Not that her son had been in agreement.

No, Malcolm vehemently fought her at every turn.

Maybe, just maybe, she found the one woman who could break down those walls. Jessica filed that in the back of her mind and smiled at Sorcha.

"Martin Whitly is a tumor that needs to be excised."

"I agree." A shadow crossed Sorcha's face. "That's why I'm making it my mission to see Malcolm break free from his father once and for all."

Yes, Jessica underestimated this young woman. Didn't see her as socially acceptable. Didn't treat her as more than Malcolm's school friend.

No more, though.

"Let's go and join my son and Gil for breakfast."

Afterwards they could plan how to remove Martin from Malcolm's life.

For good.

…

Malcolm hadn't wanted to come back to his mother's house after being released from the hospital but there hadn't been much of a choice in the matter.

Not when his loft and Sorcha's apartment were both currently roped off as crime scenes.

Suggestion of them staying at a hotel also fell on deaf ears.

He conceded in the end only because Sorcha promised to stay with him until his loft was again inhabitable.

She hadn't agreed to return to his loft with him, though.

While he was comfortable in his feeling that they had bridged the gap between them and were slowly working towards amending their fractured relationship, he was under no illusion that it meant Sorcha would move back into the loft.

 _First, I let Eve invade her territory,_ he thought as he reached for his cup of coffee _. Then Tammy Lynn invaded it with the purpose of torturing and killing us both._

It was going to take time for them to get over that.

To feel safe again.

Malcolm stifled a groan as he raised his cup for a drink. Gil had talked him into sitting in the dining room despite his staunch refusal to have anything other than coffee.

"You get any sleep, kid?"

"I managed two whole hours." His lips curved at Gil's sigh. "What? It wasn't my fault. Sorcha couldn't sleep."

"You're not seriously trying to blame your sleep issues on Sorcha now, are you?"

"She fidgeted all night." He took another sip of coffee before returning the cup to its saucer. "Kept me awake."

A slight smile hovered about Gil's mouth.

"You sure she wasn't punishing you for telling her to run?" he joked.

Malcolm made a face. "I was trying to protect her."

"Bright, we've talked about you and calling for backup..."

"I had Sorcha call as soon as I smelled the blood!"

"... and actually waiting for that backup to arrive," Gil finished, as if Malcolm hadn't interrupted him. "You shouldn't have even gone to your loft. I specifically ordered you to stay here to avoid anything bad happening."

"I admit it was a bit stupid to go to my loft."

"A bit?" Gil looked at him from over the rim of his cup. "Kid, you have stitches in your shoulder from where she stabbed you with an ice pick and a puncture in your chest from where she started to cut you open."

 _Six stitches_ , Malcolm corrected silently. Mild compared to some of the injuries he sustained.

"Might have been more if Sorcha hadn't hit her with that skillet."

The twinkle in Gil's eyes warned him some short of cheap shot was coming.

"It's a good thing Sorcha's self-defense training kicked in."

Malcolm's lips stretched into a grin. "You know I trained her, right?"

"She actually uses her training. You?" Gil bent a look on him that had him squirming in his chair. "You dare people with knives and syringes of paralytic agents to use them on you."

"I wasn't thinking about me or my safety in that moment."

"You never do, kid."

"I had to protect her, Gil." The words came out as barely a whisper. "My life didn't matter. Long as she was okay…"

"Kid." Gil set his cup down. "You gave her the ability to defend you and herself from a dangerous predator. Last night might have turned out differently if Sorcha didn't have those skills you taught her."

"She still received a concussion."

And a bruise from where Tammy Lynn hit her across the face. Fury pulsed within him as he pictured the ugly bruise darkening her left cheek. Aimed more at himself and his inability to keep Sorcha safe than at the woman who physically marred her creamy flesh.

"It was a mild concussion," Gil pointed out. "You got the stitches, kid."

"I know." Malcolm reached for his cup. More to occupy his quaking hand than because he wanted a drink. "Are they going to charge Sorcha with assault?"

"No." Gil sat back in his seat with a sigh. "It was a clear case of self-defense."

"What about Tammy Lynn?" He folded his fingers around his mug and stared down into the caramel depths. "Will they be charging her?"

"Do you think she's mentally capable of standing trial?"

"No." Malcolm breathed out a sigh. "No, she's not."

"I expect she will be sent to Claremont once it's all said and done."

Malcolm's fingers twitched on his coffee cup.

"It's where she belongs."

"Why don't you take the next few weeks off, kid?"

"I need to work, Gil."

Cases were all that kept him going at the moment. Not that he needed to remind Gil about that.

"You need to let your shoulder heal, kid." Gil glanced pointedly up at the ceiling. "And you need to work on things with Sorcha."

"I don't know where—"

"Yes, you do." Soft but firm. "You do know where you need to begin."

Malcolm did know, Gil was right. It was the one obstacle left for them to deal with.

"Eve." A subject he wasn't sure he was ready to discuss. Not in the way that he and Sorcha needed to discuss her. "We need to talk about Eve."

"And figure out where the two of you go from here." He looked at the silver pot and then at Malcolm. "I tend to recall she likes peppermint tea." His lips curved as he pushed to his feet. "Think a cup of that brought up to her is a good way to start this conversation."

He turned to leave but Malcolm stopped him by making a quiet confession.

"She wants me to go home with her."

Gil glanced back at him, one eyebrow tilted. "Home with her to her apartment?"

"No, her parent's house upstate."

"Could be good for you to get away from the city for a while."

"Maybe."

"Home is where your heart is, Bright."

Malcolm didn't even have to wonder where his was.

It was upstairs.

Where it always was.


	16. Chapter 16

A muscle ticked in their jaw as they paced the perimeter of the cage they had been shoved in after being treated by The Puppet.

He deemed them sufficiently well enough and allowed The Interlopers to lock her back in the cuffs The Woman dared place on them while they were unconscious.

A growl burst from their lips and they spun to stalk back towards the opposite end of their cell.

_ Whore, bitch. _

How dare she and that feathered Abomination attack them!

Who did they think they were? Avenging Angels? 

They scoffed.

Didn’t The Woman understand that she and The Infidel owed their lives to Master?

That they needed to repay him for their betrayal? 

Their hands bunched into fists they kept at their sides. More snarls dripped from their lips.

Pay.

She and The Infidel would pay for their insolence.

For their defiance.

“Not over,” they hissed as a guard walked by. “This is not over.”

They’d deliver their hearts to Master if it was the last thing they did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I opted to post this final bit alone because it didn’t fit at the end of the last chapter and it does play into events down the road in Holy Waters (that’s the next in the series for those following). Thank you to everyone who left a comment and a kudo, the support was dearly cherished!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all, and welcome! This is for my fourteenth Bad Things Happen Bingo card, prompt: finger in the mail. What originally was gonna be a crack!fic about a guy accidentally chopping his finger off and mailing it has become a 22k monster complete with a killer I especially liked crafting.
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful people on the discord server because I fleshed out a lot of this during our flash-fic rounds (many prompts from the promptmaster have been used in this).
> 
> Please, if you like this story, follow/bookmark/kudo/favorite it. Comments are also dearly welcomed!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Take care, everyone!


End file.
